Jillian
by Psyche17
Summary: Can love exist between enemies? Set mostly before the movie. TristanOC. Please Read&Review! Music Video also linked in my profile. Should work now, having trouble with links.
1. Something Familiar

Author's note: I'm going to be using Lancelot as the narrator, but the story is not from his point of view. I guess you could say I'm making him an omniscient narrator, though he does not necessarily play a significant role in the events. I hope readers can follow me on this, if not, I apologize in advance.

* * *

"So you are Lancelot." Cassia Gaius, a Roman woman of about fifty years, leaned her head out of her carriage and addressed the knight with curly dark hair who rode beside the carriage on his horse, carrying twin blades on his back. Cassia's poise and formality reflected her high ranking. She was the wife of Senator Gaius, an influential politician in Rome. "My daughter has written to me of you," Cassia continued.

Lancelot smirked, "Lucia and I have become very well acquainted."

Cassia frowned disapprovingly, "Do refresh my memory on how you two met."

"Well," Lancelot began cheerily, ignoring Cassia's cold expression, "I met Lucia similarly to how I have just made your acquaintance. It is rare anymore for Sarmatian knights to be required to escort Roman caravans. The Roman cavalries can easily see to that now that the rebel woad forces are starting to dwindle, but of course, high ranking families such as yourselves can afford, shall we say, more competent protection."

"I have heard of the skilled Sarmatian Knights mentioned in Rome," Cassia said without seeming the least bit impressed and quickly changed the subject back to her daughter, "You say Lucia required your escort?"

"Yes," Lancelot replied, "I met Lucia as the knights and I accompanied her and her brother, your son Marcellus, back to their estate just north of Hadrian's wall several months past."

"Tristan, ride ahead." Cassia turned her attention to Arthur Castus, the leader of the Sarmatian knights, who gave his order to one of the knights, a man with dark braided hair.

"That is Tristan?" Cassia asked Lancelot as she watched Tristan ride off ahead of the caravan.

"You know of Tristan?" Lancelot asked in return.

"I know that my daughter detests him," Cassia replied, the corner of her mouth discretely rising into the faintest of smirks. It was the first glimpse of emotion Lancelot had seen from her.

"I suspect it is quite the opposite, actually," Lancelot suggested.

"Intriguing," said Cassia, "And does he return her feelings?"

"I presume your daughter has not written to you of Jillian," Lancelot said more as a statement than a question.

"She has not," Cassia replied,

"Well," Lancelot said, "That is a bit of a long story. It is a good story, though, to be sure. A story of love---"

"Young man," interrupted Cassia, "I am nearly fifty years of age. There is not a love story left I have not heard." Lancelot nodded and was about to urge his horse forward when Cassia spoke again to him, "But I never said I didn't like them. We still have a long journey yet ahead of us until we reach the wall. You will tell me of this knight they call Tristan---and of Jillian."

* * *

My ladyship, it will be of great use for you to know that Tristan is a man of few words. I have known him since childhood, yet I cannot say I have ever really known him at all. I beseech that your ladyship not use this information as an excuse to be skeptical of my retelling of these events. You have entrusted me with the narration of this story, and I ask only that you likewise trust my omniscience.

As I disclosed to you previously, we had been assigned to escort Lucia Gaius and her brother Marcellus Gaius to their estate just north of Hadrian's wall. Jillian sat crouched behind a tree next to her younger brother Einar. They were woads. Jillian and Einar were also joined by other woads who were planning an attack on our caravan. "Arthur and the Sarmatian knights are with them," reported one of the elder woads. Jillian turned anxiously to Einar. This ambush would be his first taste of battle. "Do not pick a fight with a Sarmatian," she warned him, "You can tell the difference between Roman and Sarmatian, right?" Einar nodded, but somehow she knew he had not taken her words as seriously as she had meant them.

The caravan was directly in front of them now. Jillian watched as a fellow warrior took aim with his bow and dispatched an arrow into the chest of one of the Roman soldiers. She and the other woads let out their battle cries and charged the caravan. The woads fought bravely, but they quickly began to realize that there were not enough of them to be truly effective against the masterful Sarmatian knights who surrounded the Roman carriages protectively.

Jillian was a skilled fighter, and easily slayed three Roman soldiers one right after another. This was what she lived for. After she had brought the third soldier to the ground, she looked up and searched for Einar amidst the skirmish. Her heart stopped when her eyes found Einar engaging one of the Sarmatian knights. She recognized the knight from previous battles. He had braided hair and used a curved sword. Einar would be know match for his skill.

Jillian raced over to them. She could not bear to see her brother fall, not today. Einar lunged at Tristan who easily dodged the blow and lifted his sword to strike. "Einar!" Jillian screamed as she blocked Tristan's sword with her own just in time and kicked Einar out of the way. Einar stumbled away frustrated. Jillian glared intensely into the face of the Sarmatian knight who stared back at her emotionless, but with a hint of respect in his eyes.

Jillian swung her sword at the knight, but he easily blocked the swing, turned, and slashed her across her midriff. The wound was not deep, but it was enough for her to yelp out in pain. There would be no honor in finishing this kill, Tristan thought, she was only trying to protect the boy. Tristan instead simply discarded her, pushing her over to the ground. He turned and quickly ended the life of another woad who came at him from behind.

Jillian broke her fall with one outstretched arm while gripping her bleeding stomach with the other. She winced in pain at the impact of the fall. A moment later, she took in a deep breath, picked up her sword, and stood. Tristan turned to see Jillian standing sword in hand, not ready to give up. Tristan stared into her eyes and for a brief second thought he was looking into his own. Jillian raised her sword to strike when she heard the sound of a horn in the distance calling for her retreat. She backed away slowly lowering her sword, and Tristan lowered his as well.

Jillian limped back into the forest, keeping pressure on her bleeding stomach with her hand. She saw Einar waiting for her, and she ran up to him and embraced him. A moment later, she pulled away and slapped him across the face. "Don't you ever do that again!" she scolded. Einar looked down at Jillian's wound and guilt flooded his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

* * *

The caravan reached the estate safely with the loss of only a couple dozen Roman soldiers and a few the Gaius' servants. Tristan dismounted his horse and began walking towards the other knights who were congregated around Marcellus Gaius at the gates of the estate. As he passed by one of the carriages a woman's arm reached out from the window and touched his soldier. He turned to see a lavishly dressed Roman woman with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes staring back at him. "I dropped my hankerchief," she said placidly, pointing down at the ground where a white, silk piece of cloth lay on the ground. Tristan wordlessly picked it up and handed it to her. "I thank you," she said formally. The woman stepped out of the carriage and added, "I am Lucia." Tristan nodded and continued on his way. "You mean to insult me by not telling me your name in return?" she asked, letting her annoyance show through her voice.

"Tristan," he answered simply, without turning back to her. Tristan reached Arthur, Marcellus, and the rest of the knights and mumbled to Gawain, "What did I miss?"

"Marcellus wants some of us to remain at the estate," said Gawain. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "He's complaining that the woads have been making repeated attacks," Gawain explained, "and he wants us to stay behind and help what's left of the Roman cavalry here to drive out the woads stationed nearby."

Tristan turned his attention now to Arthur who was trying to reason with Marcellus. "I'm sorry, Marcellus," Arthur said, "but my knights are needed back at the wall---"

"One, then," Marcellus bargained, "Leave me one Sarmatian knight here. Surely Arthur, you, a loyal Roman citizen, would not leave a fellow Roman defenseless against the native rebels." As he said this, Lucia strode over to the group and whispered something into her brother's ear.

Arthur sighed, turning to the knights with a sympathetic look. "Dagonet," he addressed, "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but would you be willing---"

"Of course," Dagonet replied with a slight nod.

Marcellus approached Dagonet with a scrutinizing look and searched the knight's kind eyes. "No, not him," Marcellus objected. "Him," Marcellus said, abruptly turning and pointing in Tristan's direction. Lucia gave a satisfied smile. Tristan stared back at Marcellus stolidly.

"Tristan," Arthur said soberly, "You're under no obligation to---"

"I'll do it," Tristan interrupted curtly, meeting Marcellus's gaze and staring him directly in the eyes. There was something about Marcellus that Tristan did not entirely trust. A devious grin spread across Marcellus's face. "Excellent," he said, "This way please." Tristan followed Marcellus and Lucia through the gates along with the other Roman soldiers. He turned around briefly to see Arthur and the rest of the knights riding away back into the forest, leaving him in the sole company of Romans.


	2. Manipulation

"I take it you do not much care for Romans," Cassia interrupted Lancelot's story.

"On the contrary, Madame," Lancelot replied, "but I fear it would little benefit you for me to embellish my tale with veneration for characters that are unworthy of your esteem."

"Characters like my children?" Cassia said raising her eyebrow.

Lancelot nervously cleared his throat, "I mean only to preserve at least a semblance of objectivity. There is no offense meant---"

Cassia laughed, "Lancelot, there is nothing I detest more than blithering imbeciles who fabricate virtue in my spoiled offspring in order to appease my disposition."

Lancelot smiled.

* * *

Tristan followed Marcellus through the main gates of the estate and towards the villa that sat in the middle of the property surrounded by modest fields of a variety of crops. Marcellus's estate was the largest Tristan had seen. It was filled with the bustling of workers and Roman soldiers. 'The Gaius family must have significant influence in Rome,' Tristan conjectured. As they headed down the path to the villa, Tristan observed the people working in the fields. Most of them looked sickly and malnourished. They were woads.

Roman guards stood over them monitoring their work, and Tristan noticed that the workers had chains around their ankles. The crack of a whip echoed across the field, and Tristan turned to see a Roman soldier beating an old man who had dropped his bucket of water. Tristan kept his face hard as stone, unwilling to betray his uneasiness to Marcellus. He could not shake the feeling that something was not right. Tristan shook off the feeling. It was probably just Arthur's idealistic nature rubbing off on him.

"You're a scout, are you not?" asked Marcellus, breaking the silence. Tristan nodded. "That will do nicely," Marcellus said, "There is a band of woads amassing at the edge of the forest. We attack at sundown. Ride out at dusk and report back with their numbers." Tristan nodded again. When they reached the villa, Marcellus waved Tristan away and strode off with a few of his higher ranking Roman guards. Tristan watched Marcellus leave and then gazed up at the large villa before him; a symbol of all that money and power could buy. He wondered how he was supposed to occupy himself until dusk.

Tristan suddenly heard a voice from behind, "Come walk with me." Tristan turned to see Lucia standing before him. For the first time he noticed how perfectly her gown and veil matched her eyes and how her dark hair contrasted the sky blue. Her posture and the way she held herself reflected her high birth. Tristan nodded once again and followed Lucia towards the gardens located on the east side of the estate.

Tristan had to adjust the pace of his walk to match her slow saunter. 'How could people walk so purposelessly?' he thought to himself. Tristan and Lucia both stared straight ahead as they walked. Finally, Lucia turned to him, "Do you not speak, knight?"

"I speak," Tristan answered simply.

"May I call you Tristan?" she asked with a sweetness too exaggerated to be sincere.

"Hmm?" Tristan uttered as though he hadn't been paying attention.

"That is your name is it not? Tristan?" Lucia repeated. The sweetness had faded from her voice. Tristan nodded. "You may call me Lucia," she said.

This had to be the most pointless conversation Tristan had ever had. They had already exchanged names, had they not? Tristan's head ached at the superfluousness that inevitably came with formality. "Where do you come from, Tristan?" asked Lucia.

"Sarmatia," Tristan replied.

"And yet you fight for Rome?" Lucia persisted. Was she really this dense or was she baiting him?

"I am obligated to serve Rome for fifteen years," said Tristan.

"Obligated?" Lucia asked, feigning innocence, "Why is that?"

Tristan couldn't take it any longer. He turned and looked her square in the eyes, "Listen, lady---"

"Lucia," she insisted.

Tristan ignored her, "Is there any reason you wished to speak with me?" The tone of his voice revealed his annoyance, and Lucia gave a self-satisfied smile. It had been almost too easy to break through his apathetic, emotionless barricade.

"You ride to battle tonight," Lucia said, once again feigning sweetness, "I wanted only to wish you luck. May God go with you."

Images of the enslaved woads in the fields flashed in Tristan's mind, and he remembered Marcellus's claims of woads raiding his estate. 'Why would woads attack an estate so heavily guarded by Roman soldiers?' Tristan thought to himself. The woads did not have the strength of the Roman legions, to be sure, but they did have a sense of strategy. They chose their targets carefully, and Marcellus' estate seemed an unlikely choice.

"How many woad attacks would you say this estate has sustained?" Tristan asked suddenly turning back to Lucia. The unprecedented length of his question caught her off guard. "There have been far too many to keep an accurate count," she answered as she dropped her eyes to the ground, unwilling to look at him directly.

Tristan nodded and turned to walk away. He was sure now more than ever of Marcellus's deceit. Tristan speculated that Marcellus and his Roman guards had been raiding the forests and capturing woads to work his land under the guise of protecting his estate from attack. The presence of one of Arthur's great Sarmatian knights would only make this task easier.

"Where are you going?" Lucia called after him. Her face had turned hard and aloof. "I did not dismiss you," she said coldly.

"I am not yours to dismiss," Tristan said simply and walked away.

"Yes you are," Lucia whispered to herself as she watched Tristan go.

One of Marcellus's servants showed Tristan to his quarters. Tristan found his room more than suitable. He set his weapons down on the table in the center of the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. His thoughts drifted to that night's mission. Compassion was not one of Tristan's stronger virtues, but he did have a sense of justice. Under Arthur's command, he had only killed woads who had made the first attack. He found pleasure in killing, yes, but he had never sought it unprovoked. Still, he had a duty to Rome, a duty that's unpleasantness had never stopped him from performing before and would not stop him now.

Tristan heard the door open and turned his head to see Lucia Gaius striding across the room to where he sat. She stood before him and let the sleeve of her dress fall, revealing her bare shoulder. She began to lean toward him, but he quickly stood and walked over to the table where he had set his weapons. Lucia, affronted, sat down on his bed trying to hide her rage. She watched him as he armed himself with his weapons. She leaned back, propping herself up with her elbows and asked suggestively, "Is it not customary for a lady to send a knight off into battle with certain amicable gestures?"

"This won't be a battle," Tristan answered, knowing the difference between carnage and combat. He finished arming himself and exited the room, leaving Lucia sitting on his bed livid.

The sun was setting when Tristan rode out to the edge of the forest. He looked up into the sky and saw his hawk soaring down to him. He held out his arm and the hawk flew down and perched itself on it. Tristan trotted his horse warily through the trees, staying constantly alert to his surroundings. Marcellus was right. There was a group of woads amassing not too far into the forest, but they were few in numbers and would be no match for the Roman cavalry Marcellus employed at his estate. This would be a massacre.

Tristan rode back to the estate to report to Marcellus. He found Marcellus already decked out in full armor, inspecting the Roman soldiers that stood at attention ready for orders. Marcellus was tall, but slender and could not quite fill out his armor. He stood and walked with his body slightly hunched over, as any man does who lacks honor. Tristan approached Marcellus and reported, "There is a group of woads not too deep into the forest. Their numbers are few, so there shouldn't be any trouble."

"Excellent," Marcellus sneered, "We shall be on our way then."

* * *

Tristan sat on his horse expressionless and watched as the Roman soldiers raided the woads' settlement. He heard screams from all directions, and noticed a gang of soldiers hoarding a group of woads into a wagon. 'More hands to tend the fields,' Tristan supposed. Occasionally, a woad would charge towards Tristan and his horse, but he would simply dispatch an arrow and watch his attacker fall to the ground. 'Death was perhaps a better alternative to enslavement,' he reasoned.

Marcellus rode up on his horse next to Tristan and laughed, "A beautiful sight isn't it?" Tristan frowned. He was not generally one for attachment, but at that moment he wished to be back with his fellow knights under Arthur's command. He respected Arthur. He could never respect Marcellus.

Despite being vastly outnumbered, the woads managed to kill quote a few Roman soldiers. Tristan couldn't help but feel slightly satisfied. On the other hand, he also watched as the Roman soldiers collected captive after captive from the woad settlement. His eyes raced across the scene until they stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing in the midst of the skirmish. It was her intensity that he recognized. She stood amidst the chaos of combating Romans and woads, staring directly into his eyes. It was the girl from the attack on the caravan. The booming sound of battle faded from his ears and everything around him dulled into the darkness of the night, except for her. She stood blazing with vibrancy as though she had been set on fire.

A sharp pain in his side shook Tristan back into reality. He spun his head around to see a long spear lunged into his side. On the other end of the spear was a growling man painted all in blue, a woad. Tristan felt himself lose his balance on the horse. He slipped off his saddle, falling to the ground, and was consumed by the darkness of unconsciousness.


	3. Jillian

Lucia found her brother sitting at the desk in his study. Marcellus had just returned from the raid and was clearly exhausted. He sat with his head resting against his hand as he rubbed his temple rhythmically with his fingers.

"They told me Tristan was injured," Lucia announced as she entered the room. The sound of her voice startled Marcellus who quickly sat upright in his chair. "Where is he?" Lucia asked, referring to Tristan.

"He will be fine, I'm sure. Sit down, sister," said Marcellus soberly. Lucia sat down across from Marcellus and looked at him expectantly. "I'm beginning to question the Sarmatian's commitment to his duty at this estate," Marcellus confided.

"What do you mean?" Lucia asked.

"His efforts tonight lacked a certain enthusiasm," Marcellus explained.

Lucia laughed, "Marcellus, that man could no sooner demonstrate enthusiasm than you could demonstrate compassion."

Marcellus scowled, "I mean to say that he could present a problem if began to show, shall we say, opposition to the manner in which we run this estate."

"Marcellus," Lucia said reassuringly, "He is only one man. His commander, Arthur, is a Roman and a Christian who surely sees things as we do. Your worrying is pointless. Tristan poses no threat to us."

Marcellus nodded his head, but the concern had still not dissipated from his face. Lucia reached out and took Marcellus's hands in her own. "I'm sure I can find ways of convincing him of the benefits of cooperation," Lucia said with a sly grin.

Marcellus brought Lucia's hands to his lips and kissed them. "You have my trust as always, sister," he said.

Lucia brushed Marcellus's cheek with the back of her hand. "It is the middle of the night," she said soothingly, "Get some sleep, brother." Lucia rose from her chair and headed towards the door.

"You might want to find the Sarmatian a healer," Marcellus called after her. Lucia nodded and exited the room.

* * *

The morning sun shined through the window, its rays beaming against Tristan's face. He opened his eyes slowly. He tried to move his body, but a sharp pain shot through him. He felt as though he were being held down by a huge boulder. Every inch of his body was sore and aching. 'Where am I?' he thought. He noted that his shirt had been removed and he was now lying in a bed with bandaging wrapped around his torso. Memories of the raid flooded back to him, and he quickly realized he was back at Marcellus's estate lying in the bed in his quarters.

Tristan managed to roll his head to the side. The presence of a girl sitting beside him startled Tristan. He recognized her immediately. The girl from the attack on the caravan and the raid sat sleeping in the chair beside his bed. Her head rested against the back of the chair, and strands of her long brown hair had fallen forward across her face. She wore a dress of thin fabric that was made too large for her thin frame. A water basin sat in her lap, and her hand still gripped the wet rag immersed in water. Had she been looking after him all night? Her blue tattooed ankles were bound in chains.

Tristan felt another presence in the room and turned to see Lucia standing in the doorway staring at him. Her eyes turned to the girl sitting still asleep beside him. Lucia marched over to the girl and struck her across the face. The girl fell awakened from her chair to the floor. The basin clattered next to her, spilling water everywhere. "Lazy wench!" Lucia growled at her, "He's awake." Tristan half expected the girl to stand up and punch Lucia in the head, but she simply looked over at Tristan with lifeless eyes. Could this really be the same girl he had fought in the forest? She got up, fetched a clean rag, and began mopping up the water that had spilt on the floor. Her movements were slow and impassive. What had happened to her vibrancy?

Lucia turned her attention back to Tristan and sat down beside him on his bed. "You've been asleep for three days now," she said. Had it really been that long? Lucia traced her finger along his bare chest and cooed, "Brave knight." Tristan felt trapped and uncomfortable, and he hated every second of it. He willed his body to move away, but every slight movement caused a surge of pain. "Are you in pain?" Lucia asked, feigning concern. "Yes," Tristan managed to utter in a raspy, forced voice. He glared at Lucia menacingly. She sighed, "I shall return when you are feeling better." She then turned her attention to the woad girl who had finished mopping up the water. "Clean and re-bandage his wounds," Lucia ordered and exited the room.

Tristan watched as the girl refilled the basin with water, wetting the rag and wringing it out. "Over a hundred Roman soldiers stationed here and none know a single thing about healing," she muttered, "They can kill, but they can't heal." She brought the basin over to where Tristan rested and set it on the side table next to the bed. The chains around her ankles clattered against the hard floor as she walked. "Can you sit up?" she asked. He tried to lift himself, but groaned in pain, so she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and helped to pull him up.

"You're a woad," he said, surprising even himself with his suddenness of words.

"You're Sarmatian," she replied simply.

'Fair enough,' he thought. The girl tugged at the bandage around his torso and began unwrapping it. "I mean that I recognize you," he said. Why was he trying to initiate conversation with her? She was tending to his wounds, he reasoned, the least he could do was be kind to her, or perhaps he was simply unwilling to admit to himself the true reason: she intrigued him.

"Is that so?" she responded indifferently, seeming more interested in the bandaging than the conversation. A moment later she added, "I remember you too."

Tristan wasn't sure what to say next, if anything. Normally the silence would have comforted him, but today it only felt awkward. He blamed his aching, injured state. Perhaps he had been hit over the head as well as stabbed. He searched his mind for something to say to her. "You're a good fighter," he said finally and added, "You just need to be more careful picking your fights." He had not meant it as an insult, but the aggressiveness with which she ripped the last section of blood-dried bandaging from his skin told him that she took it as such.

"I'm a _great_ warrior," she protested, "You're a good warrior, but you'll never be great until you fight a battle of your own choosing."

Her words silenced Tristan, not that silencing him was a great feat in itself, but he allowed her the last word on the subject. The girl was clearly knowledgeable of the Sarmatian knight's obligation to Rome. Tristan watched as she used the wet rag to wash away the dried blood from the wound where the spear had penetrated his side. Tristan flinched at the sudden coldness of the water. "Sorry," she whispered, noticing his recoil.

"It's okay," he responded. Then, hoping to change the conversation to a safer subject, he asked, "Who's the boy?"

The girl set the rag back down in the basin and drew in a deep breath. "He was my brother," she said softly. _Was. _With that single word, she revealed more to Tristan than she would ever know. Everything made sense to him now; her lifeless eyes, her indifference. She mourned deeply.

"Did he die in the---"

Tristan was about to say "raid," but she interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. "Yes," she said curtly.

"I'm sorry," Tristan replied sincerely.

The girl stood up and took the water basin back over to the table at the other side of the room with her other healing supplies. This was exactly why Tristan had never been much for talking. He had no gift for it. In the short conversation they had, he had managed to both offend her and carelessly remind her of her brother's death.

Tristan looked down at the stitches in his side. "Your work?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, returning to his side with a blue-gray powdery substance. She dipped her fingers into it and gently patted it onto the wound in his side. "What is it?" he asked, referring to the healing substance.

"It's to fight infection," she answered plainly.

Tristan nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, trying to ignore the sting in his side that the medicine caused.

"For what?" she asked.

"For this," he said, appreciatively. He realized how hard a task it must be for her. She had every reason to hate him, yet she was forced to tend to his injuries. He wanted her to know he was grateful.

After she had finished spreading the substance across his wound, she retrieved fresh bandaging and began wrapping it around his torso. Her hands were competent and steady, and she moved with confidence. Tristan wondered how many other soldiers' wounds she had wrapped. Was she tending to other Roman soldiers at the estate as well?

She tied the bandaging tightly in a knot and motioned for Tristan to lie back and rest, which he did. She watched as he pulled the blankets back over himself to keep warm. "I'll return later to change your bandages," she said, "Get some rest. I expect you to be up and walking tomorrow." He could not tell whether she was being sarcastic or just optimistic. He only knew that his body ached and that he would welcome sleep. He watched as the girl made her way to the door.

"What is your name?" Tristan called after her.

She stopped at the door and turned to look at him. "Jillian," she replied after a moment's pause. Tristan watched as Jillian's figure disappeared through the doorway. He was about to close his eyes when he saw her reappear. "What's yours?" she asked.

"Tristan," he replied. Jillian nodded, giving him a faint half-smile, and disappeared into the hallway.


	4. The Box

Jillian carried her healing supplies back to the store room. She had spent the past three days tending to the injured Roman soldiers, and she was exhausted. Most of them had only minor cuts and sprains. The Sarmatian knight was the last of her patients. 'And he has the audacity to criticize _her _fighting skills,' Jillian thought to herself bitterly, 'yet he can't even defend himself from getting stabbed in the side with a spear.' Still, to her surprise, he had been kind to her, or he had tried to be, at least. Why?

Jillian entered the store room and set down her supplies on the table. She supposed that after the Sarmatian recovered, she would be forced to work out in the fields with the other captured woads. She did not care. Her thoughts drifted to Einar, to his death. She had not even seen his fall, but perhaps she should be grateful for that. She remembered seeing the Sarmatian's---Tristan's---face. He had looked right at her just before he had been hit with the spear. She remembered feeling a tinge of satisfaction as she watched him fall from his horse.

After he had hit the ground, she had turned away, though. That was when she saw Einar's lifeless body lying on the ground no more than ten feet from her. At that moment, she swore she felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. She ran to Einar's side and shook him as if to wake him. Her stomach wrenched when she saw that his eyes open; open and still. Jillian closed his eyelids with her fingers and cried out with grief.

It was then that she felt two pairs of hands grip her arms from behind and pull her to her feet. She struggled for them to release her, but she could only feel the dirt move beneath her feet as they dragged her away Einar's body. She felt herself suddenly being lifted up and turned to see the outline of a wagon through the tears that flooded her eyes.

The voice of the elderly head house servant catapulted Jillian back into the present. "Her ladyship wishes you to fetch water and bring it to her quarters," the head servant said, "You will do this everyday at this time." Jillian nodded.

Jillian carried two buckets filled with water down the hall to Lucia Gaius's room. She stopped at the entrance when she heard two voices from within and wondered if she should intrude.

"I received word from Marcus Octavius," Marcellus disclosed to Lucia, "He wants us to meet with him at his estate."

"I shall send word to Arthur Castus at the wall to meet us here and escort us to the estate," Lucia said. Marcellus cleared his throat, and Lucia turned to see Jillian standing awkwardly in the doorway. Lucia frowned. "Well come in," she ordered, "poor the water into that basin over there." Jillian carried the buckets over to a large basin in the corner of the room and dumped the water into it.

"And how is our Sarmatian knight today?" Marcellus asked, mockingly.

"He should be up and walking tomorrow," Jillian answered with her head slightly bowed, not looking him in the eyes. Lucia strode over to the basin and dampened a cloth that she used to wash her neck and face.

"Sister, I think I will send the Sarmatian back with Arthur and the others," Marcellus declared, "He's been a bit of a disappointment, really, and I have no further use for him."

"Whatever you say, brother," Lucia answered indifferently. She then turned to Jillian. "You may go," she said. Jillian gave a slight nod, and exited the room.

The sun was beginning to set when Jillian entered Tristan's room with fresh bandages. She walked over to his bed and found him lying asleep on his back. She stood staring at him for a moment, unsure of how to wake him. Just as she was about to reach out and touch him on the shoulder, he spoke. "You're back," he said opening his eyes. Jillian nodded. Tristan sat up, this time by himself, and Jillian began unwrapping the old bandage. There was no conversation between them this time. Once she had removed the old bandaging, Jillian inspected Tristan's stitches, which were still intact. She could sense him watching her, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She grabbed the new bandaging and wrapped it around his torso as she had done before, tying it into a tight knot when she had finished.

Tristan and Jillian turned their heads towards the door as they heard Lucia's voice and footsteps coming down the hall. Tristan lied back down in his bed. "Tell her I'm asleep," he said.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Please," Tristan whispered.

Jillian gave a half smile. "Coward," she teased, shaking her head. Tristan rolled his eyes.

Jillian and Lucia met at the entrance of Tristan's room. "He's sleeping," Jillian whispered. Lucia peered in at Tristan lying motionlessly in his bed. She sighed and continued on her way. Jillian reached in and closed the door behind her, leaving Tristan in his solitary state.

The next day, Jillian once again took two empty buckets out into the courtyard to fill with water. Now that Tristan no longer required her constant healing attention, she was to spend the mornings working in the fields and the afternoons serving in the villa. She was pumping water into one of the buckets when she noticed a hawk fly down and perch itself on a nearby ledge. Jillian looked at the hawk curiously, and it seemed to scrutinize her in return. Jillian searched inside her apron for a piece of bread she had saved from that morning. She knew hawks preferred meat, but the bread was the best she could do. Jillian broke off some crumbs into her hand and held it out to the hawk. The hawk hopped over closer to Jillian and pecked at the crumbs in her hand. Jillian smiled.

Without warning, the hawk abruptly spread its wings and flew past Jillian, perching itself on Tristan's outstretched arm. Jillian, startled at his presence and the hawk's sudden movement, took an involuntarily step back. Tristan walked towards her carrying the hawk on his arm. "She likes you," Tristan said to Jillian, stroking the hawk under its beak.

"Is she yours?" Jillian asked.

Tristan nodded. "Go ahead," Tristan offered, moving his arm and the hawk in Jillian's direction. Jillian reached out her hand and stroked the hawk under its chin as she had seen Tristan do. "I told you you'd be up and walking today," Jillian said, giving him a small smile. Tristan nodded again, "Would you like to hold her?"

Jillian turned and looked at the two buckets that sat on the ground still empty. "I should get back to work," she said; then added, "I'll come by your room later with fresh bandages." Tristan nodded and went on his way.

When Jillian reached Lucia's room with the water, she found another servant already in the room. Lucia handed the servant a wooden box and ordered, "Take this directly to Master Gaius's study. He should be there to receive it."

"Yes, my lady," the servant answered, bowing her head. Jillian entered the room and poured the water into the large basin as she had done the day before. Jillian looked over at Lucia who sat brushing her dark, silky hair. Jillian wondered if there was anything between Lucia and Tristan. Lucia obviously cared for him. She had ordered Jillian to remain by his side until he regained consciousness. That proved she had been worried by his injured state. Jillian shook the thoughts from her mind. Why should she care about any of that anyway? Jillian emptied the last of the water into the basin and left the room.

Tristan sat by the window in his quarters sharpening his sword. The sun was setting, and a cool breeze blew through the open window. He was still sore, but he was grateful to be out of bed and moving around. Tristan looked up to see Lucia entering the room unannounced. She stood next to where he sat, leaning her back against the wall and staring at him. Tristan ignored her, turning his attention back to his sword.

"Arthur and the rest of the knights will be arriving tomorrow to escort us to the estate of Marcus Octavius," she said, "We will no longer be requiring your services." Tristan nodded, revealing no emotion about what she had just said.

"I'm here to ask of you a small favor," she admitted, moving closer to him, "If anyone were to ask, I need you to confirm our story that our attack on the woads was provoked. Not that it was unprovoked or that executing the first strike against pagans is anything to be ashamed of, but surely you can see the confusion and the headache that a contradicting story could cause. I ask only that you not interfere in our estate's business." She looked at him, waiting for him to speak, but he said nothing. Again, she moved closer to him. "Your loyalty will, of course, not go unrewarded," she said suggestively and leaned further into him. Tristan had had enough. He stood up and put his sword to her neck, backing her against the wall. "My loyalty," he responded, "is to Arthur."

Lucia spoke forcefully, but Tristan could see the fear in her eyes. "You forget I am the daughter of a Roman senator," she said, "You will regret this."

Lucia winced as he pushed the blade harder against the skin on her neck. "I have many regrets," he said, "This is not one of them."

Lucia's eyes suddenly focused on something behind Tristan. Tristan turned to see Jillian standing wide-eyed in the doorway, holding the fresh bandages she had promised. Tristan released Lucia, relaxing his sword at his side. Jillian did not know what to do, so she set the bandages down on the table and fled the room. Tristan followed after her.

"Jillian!" he called. She was walking quickly down the hall, and Tristan's side ached trying to catch up with her. He finally caught a hold on one of her arms and turned her to face him. She looked up at him with uncertainty, and he could tell that she was shaken. Suddenly he realized he did not know what he wanted to say to her. Why had he even followed her?

Jillian tugged her arm free from his grasp and shrunk away from him. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," she assured him.

"I wasn't worried," Tristan answered.

"Alright," she said skeptically.

"I understand, you know," he said suddenly, surprising even himself, "I am like you, serving Rome against my will." What was he saying? Why was he saying this? He supposed he simply wanted her to know that he wasn't like the Romans. He was different.

Her reply, however, was unexpected. Her eyes flared with anger, and she said, "You are forced to fight for Rome. I am forced to tend to and heal you, a man whose duty it is to kill _my people_. No, Tristan, you are _not_ like me."

With that, Jillian stormed off, leaving Tristan stunned, standing in the middle of the hall. _There_ had been the intensity he remembered. Tristan heard laughter from behind him. He turned to see Lucia standing outside his room cackling and finding great amusement in what she had just witnessed. Tristan watched as Lucia walked down the hallway past him with a triumphant smile on her face.

Jillian turned a corner and slowed her pace. She could not understand that Sarmatian knight. One minute he would show her kindness and the next he would insult or provoke her. Jillian noticed the door to one of the rooms open and a light from within. She walked by the room and noticed the wooden box of Lucia's she had seen earlier sitting on top of the desk. 'This must be Marcellus's study,' she thought to herself. There was no one around, so she slipped into the study and walked over to the desk.

The top of the box had a carving that Jillian assumed was the Gaius's family crest. The key had been inserted into the lock on the side and turned. All she needed to do was lift the lid. Jillian reached out her hand to the box when she suddenly heard a voice from behind her, "What do you think you're doing?" Jillian turned to see Lucia Gaius standing in the doorway glaring at her.


	5. You're Free

Morning had past, and Arthur still had not arrived. The journey to Marcus Octavius's estate would be long one, for he lived a two days' ride west. For this reason, an entourage of wagons and carriages were being assembled outside the gates with supplies. Tristan walked through the courtyard where he had seen Jillian the day before. He did not know why he wanted to see her. She hated him now. It was probably best just to let her go. Tristan watched as a servant girl he did not recognize brought two empty buckets to the pump and started to fill them with water.

'Where is Jillian?' he wondered. He recalled that she had never returned to redress his bandages. The servant girl was interrupted by a Roman guard who pulled her by the arm towards the back of the courtyard and around the corner. Tristan raised an eyebrow, but then shook his head. He probably did not want to know.

Tristan heard voices and turned to see Arthur and the rest of the Sarmatian knights striding towards him.

"There he is!" Bors called out boisterously, "Had enough of being pampered at the Roman estate, have ya?" Tristan frowned.

"It's good to see you," Arthur said sincerely.

They suddenly heard a commotion from across the courtyard. Arthur turned and watched suspiciously as two Roman soldiers led several chained workers through the courtyard and around the corner, as the other Roman soldier had done with the servant girl. Arthur unsheathed Excalibur and followed them. If there was only a single thing to be counted on in this world, it was Arthur's idealistic nature.

Tristan and the rest of the knights followed Arthur who followed the Roman soldiers to an area behind the courtyard sectioned off by iron bars. 'The slaves quarters,' Tristan presumed to himself. The head Roman guard could be heard speaking to one of his soldiers. "The Gaiuses leave today. The workers are to be kept in here till morning. Then I am in charge," he briefed the soldier.

Arthur marched over to where they stood. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"These people attacked the Gaius's estate. They are prisoners of Rome," recited the head guard. Arthur gave him a skeptical look.

Tristan spoke suddenly, tired of all the deception. "There were no attacks," he said, "I assure you their imprisonment was unprovoked." Tristan was unsure if he meant his words to clear his conscience or simply to spite Marcellus and Lucia.

"Unprovoked?" spat the Roman guard, "These people are rebels." Arthur peered through the bars at the pitiful state of the people inside.

"Arthur!" Marcellus called, approaching the group with a ceremonious smile, "There you are!"

Arthur ignored him and turned to the guard. "Open this gate," he ordered. The guard turned his eyes questioningly to Marcellus. "Open this gate!" Arthur repeated, raising his voice to a shout.

"What is going on?" Marcellus asked. His smile had faded.

Still ignoring Marcellus, Arthur raised Excalibur to the guard's throat. "I will not ask again," he threatened. The other soldiers drew their swords, but the Sarmatian knights drew theirs in return. The head guard nodded to his men to stand down and fumbled through his keys and unlocked the barred gate.

"Unchain these people," Arthur ordered the other Roman soldiers.

"You are out of line, sir!" Marcellus cried lividly. Arthur glared back at him; then walked through the now open gate to supervise as the Roman guards freed their prisoners. The knights followed him inside.

"I am the son of a Roman senator---" Marcellus screeched, following close behind.

"And I would expect the son of a Roman senator to be above this kind of exploitation!" Arthur yelled in return, waving his sword in Marcellus's face. Marcellus was a man of words, not of action. He was a coward easily persuaded by the prospect of being wrung through with a blade of iron.

Tristan turned his attention to a figure crumpled on the floor in the corner. Jillian. She lay motionless on the stone ground, her body covered in cuts and bruises. He knelt down beside her. Her eyes cracked open slightly and she looked up at him. "Tristan?" she whispered, closing her eyes again. Tristan scooped her up in his arms and stood. "Am I still like you?" she murmured senselessly, not opening her eyes.

"No," Tristan answered; then thought to himself, 'You are better.'

Tristan carried her through the courtyard, motioning for Dagonet to follow him. They marched purposefully towards the entourage of carriages and wagons outside the main gate. Lucia stood outside one of the carriages staring at them in shock, but Tristan ignored her, looking straight ahead and carrying Jillian into one of the covered wagons. Dagonet followed close behind.

Tristan gently set her down and watched as she lay trembling, drifting in and out of unconsciousness. Her head rolled from side to side. "Einar….Einar…" she murmured. Tristan felt a hand touch his shoulder. "I will look after her," Dagonet assured him. Tristan nodded and exited the wagon.

The verbal sparring between Arthur and Marcellus reached a stalemate with the reasoning that they should try to make as much headway on their journey before nightfall as possible. Marcellus threatened, however, that he would not soon forget Arthur's insubordination. Tristan rode ahead as always, noting the freed woads escaping into the forest. He hoped Marcellus was watching. It occurred to him that he would probably fight those same woads in the future as they once again attacked Roman caravans. He shrugged to himself. He would have no qualms or trouble killing them when that time came.

Upon his return, Tristan decided to check on Jillian. Several hours had past since he had left her in Dagonet's care, and the sun had almost finished setting. He entered the wagon to find her sitting up sleepily, resting her back against the side wall of the wagon and smiling at Dagonet, who touched his hand to her shoulder. He had just finished telling her of Arthur's freeing of the people at the Gaius estate.

Tristan cleared his throat. "We'll be stopping in about an hour to set up camp," he announced, not knowing what else to say. Dagonet nodded and moved over to the other side of the wagon to let Tristan sit by Jillian.

"Dagonet said you found me," she said, "Thank you."

Tristan nodded. "Are you---okay?" he asked.

"I'm a fast healer," she responded, "It looks worse than it is."

"She's doing much better now that she's regained consciousness," Dagonet interjected.

"Who did this to you?" Tristan asked. Jillian turned away.

"She won't say," Dagonet answered for her.

"Did they---hurt---you?" Tristan asked instead. Jillian held out her battered arms and gave him a quizzical look.

"No, I mean, did they---" Tristan's voice held discomfort.

"Did they rape me?" asked Jillian for him bluntly, "No."

Tristan exhaled with relief. He would not have thought any less of her, but he was relieved she had not been hurt in that way.

Jillian paused, then added with a smirk, "You see, he was a nice looking bloke, so I consented." Dagonet let out a hearty laugh, but Tristan was not amused.

"I'll be back shortly," Dagonet announced as he got up and exited the wagon. Tristan shifted uncomfortably and was about to leave as well when Jillian spoke.

"Do you believe in heaven?" she asked.

"I don't know," Tristan answered. He had never really thought about it.

"The Romans believe that people who are good on earth are rewarded in the afterlife by living in heaven for eternity," she said.

"If that's true," Tristan responded, "I suspect there are more of us there than there are of them."

"And you wouldn't call that heaven?" Jillian teased.

* * *

Night had fallen and the moon lit the sky when Jillian stepped out of the wagon, wrapping herself in a blanket. The caravan had set up camp in the forest. Tristan watched her as he sat by the fire with the other knights. She approached Arthur who sat with his back against a tree. 

"Arthur Castus," she greeted reverently. She had heard much about this half-Roman, half-Briton leader of the Sarmatian knights. Arthur looked up at her, and their eyes met.

"You must be Jillian," he replied.

"I am very grateful for what you did at Marcellus's estate," she said, "I will never forget your kindness." Arthur bowed his head ceremoniously. "Perhaps someday I will be able to repay you," she added.

"There is no need," he answered.

"We shall see," Jillian said respectfully and left Arthur to his thoughts.

Tristan followed Jillian with his eyes as she left Arthur. She turned her head from side to side cautiously and headed towards one of the supply wagons. Tristan stood, leaving the company of the knights, and headed in the same direction, careful not to catch her attention. He watched from behind a tree as she made her way around to the back of the wagon and pulled out a knife from inside. 'Don't do anything stupid,' he said mentally as if she could hear his thoughts.

Tristan followed her silently as she walked a few feet into the woods and sat at the base of a tree. She pulled down the sleeve of her dress, revealing the symbol of Rome branded into the side of her arm. She pressed the blade of the knife to her skin and slowly ran it across the marking. Tristan involuntarily held his breath as she drew blood, removing not only the branding, but the skin on her arm as well with the sharp blade of the knife.

Jillian tore off a strip of fabric from her dress and tied it tightly around her arm as a bandage. She then picked up the knife once again and threw it straight in Tristan's direction. The knife lodged itself in the tree an inch away from Tristan's head. He obviously had not been as inconspicuous as he thought. He stepped out from behind the tree and looked at Jillian, who stood feeding her arm back into the sleeve of her dress.

"You're free," Tristan said finally.

Jillian looked up at Tristan. "Then don't follow me," she said simply, turned, and vanished into the misty forest.


	6. Kidnappings & Schemes

I don't know that I'm completely satisfied with this chapter. It's kind of cut and dry. The next one will be better, I promise!

* * *

"So she just left then? After he saved her life?" Cassia interrupted.

"Well---yes," Lancelot replied.

"Stupid girl," said Cassia, "She should have stayed." Lancelot shrugged. "I'm always right about these things," Cassia added, "She should have stayed."

"We'll see," responded Lancelot.

"What were you doing while all this was going on?" Cassia asked.

"My lady," Lancelot said with a grin, "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

While the other knights sat huddled around the fire, I decided to engage in more creative activities. I found it convenient that Lucia had attained her own private wagon in which she had retired for the night. I strode over to the wagon and simply tapped my hand against the back entrance. Lucia peeked her head outside the wagon, seeming at first slightly confused by my presence. 

"Yes?" she asked.

"My lady," I said giving her a ceremonious bow, "I thought you might be in need for some entertainment."

Lucia gave a seductive grin. "Come in," she said. I stepped into the wagon and then I, shall we say, entertained her the rest of the night.

The next morning the caravan started off at the crack of dawn, hoping to make up some time and reach the Octavius estate by nightfall. As usual, Arthur ordered Tristan to ride ahead of the group to scout out the trails for any potential threats to the convoy. Tristan was walking over to his horse when he saw three Roman soldiers approaching him followed closely behind by Lucia Gaius herself.

"Marcellus told me about the little stunt you and Arthur pulled yesterday," Lucia snarled, "I told you not to interfere."

"And I said that I do not take orders from you," Tristan answered, finding the hilt of his sword with his hand. The Roman soldiers looked ready for a fight, and he would give them one.

"Where is the girl?" Lucia asked with a devious smile.

"She left," Tristan responded plainly, still keeping an eye on the three soldiers.

"You know, I caught her snooping around Marcellus's study," Lucia said, "So I had my trusted soldiers here take her out and beat her. Then I had them beat her again---and again---and again." Lucia let her amusement show through the tone of her voice, but Tristan kept his face expressionless. He would not give her the satisfaction of his anger. "You know, Tristan, we could have been wonderful together. How much easier life could have been for you if you had only taken my offer. You've brought this upon yourself, I'm afraid," Lucia said; then turned to the guards, "Kill him. Dispose of his body in the woods." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to witness the carrying out of her orders.

Tristan drew his sword in the blink of an eye as the three Roman soldiers charged at him. Within three moves he had effortlessly ended the lives of the first two guards, then turned and slashed the third deeply through his chest. He stood for a moment staring down at the three corpses at his feet. Yes, he had found _great _pleasure in those kills.

Tristan mounted his horse and whistled to his hawk. He then took off down the trail to scout as Arthur had ordered. As he rode, thoughts of the past few days flew through his mind. So much had happened in such a little amount of time. He had been enveloped by one event after another.

He was relieved to finally have some time to himself. He found solace in riding on the open road with no one but himself and his hawk. The wind blew through his hair and cleared his mind. If the heaven Jillian spoke of really existed, perhaps it felt something like this. Yet Tristan also felt something at the pit of his stomach that he could only identify as loneliness. It was a feeling that Tristan had never before experienced.

Tristan shook his head. He would not allow himself to grow soft. He saw an image in his mind of what he might look like if he succumbed to such pointless emotions. He looked a lot like the whining Galahad, actually. That thought amused him, and he was able to put his mind to rest. No, he would never let emotion get the better of him, be it loneliness or anything else.

Tristan met back with the caravan at dusk and reported to Arthur. "We're still a few hours away. We'll have to ride for a bit in the dark, but there's really no point in stopping to put up camp."

Arthur nodded. "That will be fine," he said. Tristan's eyes suddenly darted about his surroundings with alertness.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Woads," Tristan responded.

As if on cue, a band of woad warriors emerged from the forest letting out their battle cries. The knights unsheathed their swords and readied their bows, circling the wagons and carriages protectively. Within seconds, Tristan had taken aim, dispatching arrow after arrow into his selected targets.

The woads charged at the caravan. Arthur swung Excalibur masterfully at the woads that surrounded his horse trying to pull him from his saddle. Galahad and Gawain stayed atop their horses as well shooting arrows at attacking woads, while Dagonet and Bors fought on the ground, Dagonet with his sword and Bors with his hand knives. I, of course, exhibited my superior combat skills with my twin swords.

It was a short battle, and the remaining woads retreated quickly back into the forest. The knights turned, however, to see Marcellus Gaius running wildly towards them in a state of panic. "She's gone! They've taken her!" he shrieked hysterically.

"Who?" Arthur responded.

"Lucia! She's nowhere to be found! Those blue demons took her!" Marcellus cried frantically.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"Her carriage is empty," Gawain called to them.

"Go after her! You have to go after her!" Marcellus shouted.

Arthur paused for a moment, assessing the situation. "It's too dangerous at night, and we don't know where they've taken her," he said, "We're nearly to the Octavius estate. The best thing to do is get there safely and then decide a course of action from there."

Marcellus opened his mouth about to speak, but realized protesting would be useless. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and stormed back to his carriage.

It was well into the night when they reached Marcus Octavius's estate. Though consisting of twice as much land as the Gaius estate, it had only about a quarter as many Roman soldiers. By comparison, the Octavius estate seemed abandoned and desolate. Arthur and the knights were greeted inside the gates by a pair of Roman soldiers who announced that they were to escort Marcellus to Marcus Octavius's study. "So much for a warm welcome," Gawain commented.

Marcus Octavius was a balding man ten years older than Marcellus. He had acquired much wealth over his years, but his greed could never be completely satisfied.

"Marcellus!" he greeted as Marcellus entered his study, "And where is the lovely lady Lucia?"

Marcellus frowned. "Our caravan was attacked not but three hours ago. She was taken," Marcellus disclosed soberly.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Marcus Octavius replied, "I will send my soldiers out at first light to look for her. Do not worry, old friend. She will be found and her captors severely punished. Now, have you brought the letters?" To discern which was the more villainous of the two men would only bring about an endless debate for as soon as one would chastise Marcus Octavius for his heartlessly quick changing of the subject, one would then blame Marcellus for not taking offense to it.

"I have them right here," Marcellus said, revealing the wooden box with the Gaius family crest carved into the lid. Marcellus set the box down on top of the desk, and Marcus Octavius leaned back in his chair. Marcellus took a seat across from him.

"Ah, my old friend," Marcus Octavius said wistfully, "A year from now, Rome will withdraw from Britain and we will be the very wealthy landlords of several of its most prized estates."

"Only a year? That is sooner than expected," Marcellus said, "Can we amass enough soldiers and workers in that amount of time? The land is meaningless unless we have means to defend it. That is, after all, why Rome is leaving."

"Nonsense," Marcus Octavius said, "Rome is leaving because its being here has lost support from the Senate. Let's speak frankly here, Marcellus, your father doesn't have the influence he used to. Britain lost favor in the Senate ever since that Pelagious fellow. Rome can't support a nation spawning such blasphemy, and they no longer have the motivation to exterminate it. Better to just cut their losses."

"I must say I admire your genius," Marcellus said, "Securing the deeds to estates of fleeing Romans and not having to pay an ounce of gold for them."

"Yes, well, your father still has _some _influence left, doesn't he?" Marcus Octavius said with an amused grin.

* * *

The knights returned to the estate at dusk the next day after spending the entire day searching the forest for Lucia Gaius along with a unit of Roman soldiers. They're outing was unsuccessful, however, and Lucia was still nowhere to be found. The knights entered the estate exhausted from the search. "Come," Bors said, "I could use a drink." 

"You there," Gawain called, motioning to one of the house servants, "Liquor. As much as you can find. Bring it here." The servant bowed and scurried off into the main house. He returned with two other servants, their arms all full with bottles of alcohol.

"Ah, there we are," Bors said gruffly, relieving the servants of the bottles and distributing them among the other knights. The knights sat happily in the courtyard guzzling their liquor. There were no tables or chairs, but the knights were satisfied simply to sit on the ground or on the steps leading up to the house. Tristan took a sip of his liquor and sat on the ground with his back against the stone side of the house. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye, and looked up at the wall that surrounded the estate. He noticed two shadows racing across the top of it. 'What now?' he wondered.


	7. Vengeance

"My lady Gaius," Lancelot said, pausing from his tale, "I must forewarn you that this part of the story contains certain events surrounding your son that---well, I only mean that---if it would offend you---or pain you to hear---"

"Lancelot," Cassia spoke calmly, "You have impressed me with your honesty thus far. Don't muck it all up now."

"Very well," said Lancelot.

* * *

Jillian and Revelin climbed the outer wall of the Octavius estate. Revelin was an elderly woad who had known Jillian since the day she had been born. He was a silent, but wise man. He had been a friend of her parents before their deaths and had remained a good friend to Jillian all her life. When she had confided in him of her plan, Revelin had insisted on coming with her. He was protective of her, but she loved him for it. He was the only family she had left. Jillian and Revelin reached the top of the wall and scaled swiftly across it, being careful to remain in the shadows.

They climbed down from the wall and quickly scurried into an alleyway. Jillian led the way, creeping slowly and cautiously down the alley. She turned a corner, however, and gasped at the sight of a familiar figure leaning against the side of the building as if he had been expecting her. His presence startled her, causing her to involuntarily jump back.

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked casually, as though it were no surprise to him that Jillian would be prowling around the Octavius estate. Revelin drew his sword threateningly, scrutinizing Tristan with his eyes.

"It's alright," Jillian said, motioning for Revelin to put away his sword. Then she turned to Tristan. "I must speak with Arthur," she said urgently. Tristan raised an eyebrow, but nodded and turned to lead them the rest of the way down the alley. Jillian and Revelin followed close behind.

Tristan led them to where Arthur and the rest of the knights sat in the courtyard enjoying the night's air and their abundance of alcohol. Jillian noted that fortunately the other Roman guards seemed to be elsewhere at the moment. She would not have wanted to try to explain her presence to them. Arthur stood at Tristan, Jillian, and Revelin's entrance. Jillian approached Arthur and spoke diplomatically. "Arthur Castus, I told you I would never forget your kindness, and I intend to keep that vow," she said, "I know where Lady Gaius is. She's been taken captive by a tribe just north of here, and they want 50 gold coins for her return. The only condition is that you and the knights come to retrieve her in person. They will meet you two miles northeast of here at a lake that sits just off of the trail."

"Fifty gold coins seems a small price to pay for the return of the daughter of a Roman senator," Gawain commented.

"What proves to make them so accommodating?" Arthur asked with a thoughtful look on his face.

Jillian paused for a moment; then answered slyly, "As I'm sure you can imagine, they found her ladyship to be a bit more of a handful than they expected." This comment brought a smirk to a few of the knight's faces who could very well imagine how uncooperative a hostage Lucia would be.

I, however, was suspicious of Jillian's intentions. I pulled Arthur to the side where we would be out of the others' earshot. "Arthur, what if this is a trap?" I asked, "Does it not seem at all suspicious to you that she would want to send us out into the forest to meet with a tribe of woads? Why not just send a unit of Roman officers? Why us?"

"It's possible," Arthur replied, "But if it is a trap, I don't think it is set for us. I think Jillian was being sincere in wanting to help us, but you are right. There is more to this than what we can see on the surface." Arthur turned to see Tristan approaching.

"I agree with Arthur," he said, "She wants us away from the estate."

"But why…" I responded more as a thought than a question.

"Regardless, this is an opportunity we can't let pass by," Arthur said, "Right now, finding Lady Gaius is all that matters."

Arthur, Tristan, and I returned to the group, and Arthur announced, "We will head out immediately to the lake. Tristan, Bors, and Dagonet, however, will stay behind." Tristan studied Jillian's face as Arthur spoke. Her expression turned from at first relief to then concern at Arthur's statement that three of them would be staying behind. Yes, she was definitely hiding something.

"Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad," Arthur addressed us, "Ready your horses and wait for me outside the gates. I will retrieve the ransom money from Marcellus and meet you there shortly." With that, Arthur took off into the main house, and Gawain, Galahad, and I made our way to the stables.

Jillian walked over to Tristan who was about to go sit on the stairs of the courtyard with Dagonet and Bors. "Tristan, I beg you," she said urgently, "There is still time. You must go with the others---Dagonet and Bors, as well."

"Why?" Tristan asked, casually picking up his discarded liquor bottle and taking a sip from it.

"Because!" she said, raising her voice and revealing her frustration, "Look, the condition about Arthur and the rest of you meeting them at the lake. That was _my _condition."

"We know," Tristan responded simply, "That's why we're staying."

"Tristan, you don't understand," she said, becoming more frantic.

"Then explain," he answered. Jillian's eyes darted around the courtyard and she noticed a few drunken Roman soldiers stumbling around at the other side. She turned to Revelin and said, "It's not safe here anymore. Go. I'll meet up with you later." Revelin looked as though he were about to protest. "Please," Jillian pleaded. Revelin nodded and ran cautiously back down the alleyway towards the wall. Jillian turned to Tristan and grabbed his arm. "We can't talk here," she said, "Come." Jillian led Tristan by the wrist to the back of the courtyard towards another section of the wall. There they found a hidden passage covered in ivy. They stepped through it and found themselves outside the estate. They ran over to the edge of the woods, and Tristan leaned his back against a tree. Meanwhile, Jillian paced back and forth. "What have I gotten myself into?" she mumbled to herself.

"You could just tell me what is going on," Tristan suggested.

Jillian scoffed at his words. Her hands were trembling, and he could tell she was on the verge of hysteria. "Look, I tried to help you, but you wouldn't listen. I can't control that! I owe you nothing, you know, _nothing_," she blurted out, still pacing back and forth, "I mean, I'm grateful you saved my life, but that doesn't mean I'm going to betray my own people to return the favor." She stopped pacing, exhaled, and turned to him. A sudden calmness spread over her face. "Still," she said, finding the handle of the axe that hung from her belt, "I can't allow myself to put you in danger." At that moment, Tristan heard a loud noise coming from the estate and turned his head in its direction. The sound had distracted him, and Jillian saw her chance. She whipped the axe from her belt and used the back handle to strike Tristan across the head. He fell to the ground unconscious. Jillian knelt next to him and brushed her hand across his forehead, moving the stray hairs away from his face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

It was one of the better organized woad attacks. Estates like the Gaius's were too risky to attack, but the lack of Roman military presence at the Octavius estate made it an easy target. Approximately two hundred woad warriors ambushed the estate, easily overbearing the sparse collection of intoxicated Roman soldiers. Jillian re-entered the estate through the hidden passage that lead back into the estate. She saw Dagonet and Bors surrounded by the chaos of woads charging through the courtyard. "Dagonet! Bors!" she called, motioning them over to her. Dagonet saw her and ran over to her, dragging Bors along with him. "Tristan needs your help," she informed them, "Follow me." Jillian led them to the secret passage and ushered them through it, pointing them towards the edge of the woods. She could not help but be surprised by her actions that night. Had she really aided Arthur and his knights, her sworn enemies for many years? She was not one to go back on her word, though, no matter what it entailed. They had saved her life and had freed many of her people from the Gaius's captivity. "Now we're even," she thought.

After Dagonet and Bors were safely outside the wall, Jillian headed back towards the main house of the estate. She made her way through the battling woads and Roman soldiers and slipped into the main house looking for Marcellus. She would now avenge her brother's death. The place was a frenzy, as other woads had already barged into the main hall, setting fire to anything that would burn. Jillian climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered the main study where she saw a man lying on the floor with an arrow through his back. She assumed by his wealthy looking garmets that he was Marcus Octavius.

The wooden box that sat on his desk caught her attention. She recognized the Gaius family crest on the lid. She wondered of what significance the contents of the box held. They were obviously of great importance to Marcellus and Lucia. She shrugged, picked up the box, and slid it into the satchel that was slung around her shoulder. She could feel the heat of the fire spreading through the house, so she quickly retreated down the stairs and back out into the courtyard.

The corpses of Roman soldiers lay everywhere, and there was no doubt the woads would achieve their victory. The main house had now completely burst into flames, sending smoke and ashes soaring into the air. Marcellus Gaius slunk in the shadows, creeping along the edge of the courtyard and trying to escape unnoticed. Jillian noticed him immediately. She picked up a bow and arrow that lay next to one of the dead soldiers and aimed the arrow directly at Marcellus's heart. "For Einar," she said and released the arrow.


	8. Mourning

Tristan awoke to find himself lying beneath a tree with Dagonet and Bors standing over him. His mind was flooded with confusion, and he strained to remember what had happened and how he had ended up on the ground. "What happened?" he asked, putting his hand against his throbbing head. He wondered how long he had been unconscious.

"We were about to ask you the same question," Bors responded. Tristan grunted in pain as he sat up. He looked over at the smoke rising from the Octavius estate.

"Should we be doing something about that?" he asked.

"Go ahead. We're right behind you," Bors responded sarcastically.

"I already went back," Dagonet said solemnly, "There's nothing left we can do. They killed everyone."

"Who?" Tristan asked, getting to his feet. He noticed that their horses stood near by. Dagonet must have gotten them out in time, he presumed. He had obviously been knocked out for quite awhile.

"The woads," answered Bors, as if it were a stupid question, "How hard did you get hit in the head?" Tristan rolled his eyes. Just then, they heard the sound of another horse's hooves clomping against the ground. They turned to see Galahad riding towards them.

"What are you doing out here?" Galahad asked. He turned his head to the estate, and before they could answer, he asked, "What happened?"

"Long story," Tristan responded.

"Did you find the Lady Gaius?" Dagonet asked.

"No, we found the lake, but it's completely deserted," Galahad answered, "Arthur told me to ride back to check on you three."

"I think you just missed us," Bors teased.

Galahad rolled his eyes. "You realize that now not only is the Lady Gaius missing, but we've let an entire Roman estate go up in flames. Arthur's not going to be happy," Galahad warned.

"Perhaps they might still show up with the Lady Gaius," Dagonet suggested.

"They won't," Tristan said curtly, "It was a distraction to lure us away from the estate."

"I knew she couldn't be trusted," Galahad said, referring to Jillian.

"Galahad, if it weren't for her we might have ended up like the rest of the Roman soldiers inside those walls," Dagonet said. He had thought fondly of Jillian ever since he met her at their departure from the Gaius's estate.

"Or we might have prevented it from happening!" Galahad argued.

"Yeah, yeah," Tristan said sarcastically, "You would have played the hero, right?"

"I wouldn't have just sat back and watched it happen!" Galahad screamed.

"Stop!" boomed Dagonet's voice, "What's done is done."

"And what do we do now?" asked Bors. Tristan walked over and mounted his horse.

"Where do you think you're going?" Galahad asked impatiently.

"I'll meet you back at the lake," Tristan responded, kicking his horse and riding into the forest.

"Great! Wonderful!" Galahad shouted after him angrily, "He always has to be so damn independent!"

"Yeah, well maybe he'll find the girl and we can get to the bottom of this," Bors said.

"She knows where Lady Gaius is," Galahad said, shaking his head angrily, "I know it."

"Perhaps," said Dagonet thoughtfully. The three knights mounted their horses and took off down the trail to meet with Arthur and the rest of the knights at the lake. They were grateful that for once their journey was a short one of two miles instead of the usual two day ride.

* * *

Jillian turned back and watched the smoke rise from the Octavius estate. Her heart raced with exhilaration as it always did after battle, especially after a victory. That night, however, had been more than just a victory over Marcellus and the other Romans. Jillian had also been able to repay her debt to Arthur and the knights. Perhaps they would not see what she had done as trying to help them, but she did not care. She had done what she felt was right to the best of her ability, and that was all that mattered. She was proud of that feat, for she had always tried to be honorable and keep her word to others. It had not been easy, and she was still angry at Tristan for not cooperating, but everything had turned out alright.

Jillian walked between the trees of the forest letting the night air sweep across her face. The breeze that rattled the leaves was cool, yet refreshing. She could feel the electricity in the air, and she knew a storm was coming.

Jillian could have met up with the other woads after the battle, but she decided she wanted some time to herself. She had never fully allowed herself the time to grieve for the loss of her brother, but now that she had avenged him by killing Marcellus, she wanted just one night alone to mourn Einar's death.

Jillian came across a clearing in the middle of the forest and walked to its center. Just then, a clap of thunder echoed through the woods followed by rain splashing against the dirt carpet of the forest. Jillian held out her hands, lifted her head, and let the water cascade over her face and body. The moment was her own, a chance to completely isolate herself from the world. She let the hollowness of her heart consume her, and for the first time since the night of Einar's death, she let herself cry. The hot tears mixed with the cold rain, cleansing her face. She closed her eyes. Jillian wrapped her arms around herself, took in a deep breath, and exhaled. She then reopened her eyes to discover that the rain had stopped.

* * *

Dagonet, Bors, and Galahad returned to the lake where Arthur, Gawain, and I sat waiting. We immediately noticed their solemn faces and braced ourselves for what they were about to tell us. "Arthur, we have some bad news," Dagonet said, confirming our suspicions.

"The bloody woads ambushed the estate. Killed everyone," Galahad said still as angry as before, "The whole place is burned to the ground."

Arthur sighed sorrowfully. "This is all my fault," he said, hanging his head in shame, "I shouldn't have left. Lancelot, I should have listened to you."

It was just like Arthur to take on all the guilt himself. "Arthur, you couldn't have known," I replied, trying to reassure him, "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"Where is Tristan?" Gawain interjected.

"He went to look for the girl," Galahad replied.

"Good," I said, "She's the one that got us into this mess."

"She was only trying to help," Dagonet defended.

"I'm sorry, but I agree with Lancelot," Galahad said, "She's the one who caused all this."

"You can't blame her for something a group of over 200 woads did," Dagonet replied, "She saved the life of myself, Tristan, and Bors and your lives, as well."

Arthur nodded. "Dagonet is right," he said, "She did what she did out of goodness, and I will hear no more of it."

"I, for one, couldn't care less if a Roman got his estate burned down," Gawain commented.

"Gawain," Arthur chastised, "Many people died tonight. There's nothing we can do about them, now, but there is still a chance to save Lady Gaius. Perhaps the girl can help us."

"Since she was so helpful with that before," I muttered under my breath.

Arthur glared at me, and I knew it was time to shut my mouth. "We will set up camp here for the night," Arthur said, "and discuss this further in the morning."

"But---" Galahad tried to say.

"In the morning!" Arthur repeated, turning and walking towards the edge of the lake. He stared at the ripples the breeze made as it swept across the water's surface and let out a sigh.

* * *

Tristan rode quickly through the forest, using every scouting instinct he had to try and track where Jillian was headed. Part of him assured himself that she could not have gotten very far in so little time, but another part of him knew that it was large forest in which she could have taken any direction. He was determined to find her, however, and would ride all night if he had to.

There was something about being atop his horse riding by himself that enabled Tristan to think and reflect. He replayed his conversation at the edge of the woods with Jillian over and over again in his mind. She was lucky the blow had knocked him out completely. No one got away with hurting Tristan, not even people he genuinely liked. 'Genuinely liked?' Tristan thought, shocked at what he had just admitted to himself. He supposed he did genuinely like Jillian, even if he was livid with her at the moment.

Yet, perhaps the person he was really angry at was himself. How had she gotten him to let his guard down long enough to render him unconscious? How had he let that happen? It was not like him to be so careless. Then again, he had not been acting like himself at all lately. He was not one to attach himself to others, yet he had been disappointed when Jillian left the caravan and surprisingly elated when he saw her again at the Octavius estate. He had, of course, kept these emotions safely hidden, but they were there. They were there.

Tristan heard a clap of thunder that was followed by a downpour of rain. The rain stung his eyes as he rode, but he kept plodding forward. To his relief, it wasn't long before the rain stopped. Tristan saw a figure standing in a clearing in the forest up ahead and slowed his horse. He dismounted and walked quietly and cautiously between the trees.

Jillian stood in the middle of the clearing with her arms wrapped around herself. Tristan wondered what she was doing out there all alone. She seemed to be absorbed in thought, completely unaware of anything around her. She brought a hand up to her eye, and he could not tell if she was wiping away a tear or a drop of rain.

Tristan walked towards the clearing, revealing his presence to her. She turned to him, and he could see now that she had without a doubt been crying. Her vulnerability caught him off guard; yet, it touched him, as well. He strode over closer to her, and she looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed. "Will I never be rid of you?" she asked.


	9. Enemies

It was becoming ever clearer to Tristan that perhaps Jillian simply just did not like him. When she was not angry with him, she was whacking him across the head with the back of her ax, and now she was looking at him as though he were the last person in the world she wanted to see. Tristan put these thoughts aside for the moment. He had gone looking for her for a reason, for answers, and he was going to get some. "You promised us Lucia Gaius. What happened to keeping your word?" he asked, purposely trying to provoke her.

Jillian glared at him. "Well, I don't know where she is," she responded.

"You're a terrible liar," Tristan said, shaking his head. Jillian shrugged and moved to walk past him back into the forest, but he stepped in front of her blocking her path. Jillian drew her sword and shot him a threatening glare. Tristan drew his sword as well, and they circled each other like two predators each looking at the other as prey.

"I understand that you want revenge against Lucia Gaius," Tristan said.

A mix of bewilderment and anger flashed in Jillian's eyes. She swung her sword at Tristan clanging her blade against his. "This has nothing to do with revenge!" she shouted, "I told you! I won't betray my people!"

"Betray?" Tristan asked, blocking another one of her swings.

"If I tell you where she is, you and the rest of the knights will go, rescue her, and then burn the entire village down! I cannot be the cause of that," she answered. She slashed her sword at his neck, but he easily ducked out of the way. Tristan pivoted and swung his sword, which once again met with hers.

"Then you do know where she is," Tristan pointed out.

Jillian shook her head angrily. "Why do you care, anyway? What are you, her great rescuer now?" Jillian asked as she blocked his sword with her own once again. It was her turn to do the provoking.

"I have a duty to Arthur and to Rome," Tristan responded simply.

"Then you understand why I can't help you," she answered, "You saved my life. I saved yours, but we're even now---and you're my enemy." Their blades clashed against each other, but Tristan maneuvered his to twist Jillian's from her hand. Jillian's sword flew from her hand into Tristan's, and he held both to her neck. Jillian stepped backward until she felt her spine press up against the rough bark of a tree. Tristan was just inches from her now, and she could feel his breath on her face.

"If that's the case, then _you'll _understand why I have to hand you over to Arthur," Tristan said, barely above a whisper. With that, he gripped her firmly around the arm, leading her back to where his horse stood waiting. She struggled at first, but his hold on her arm was too strong. He pulled her up in front of him into the saddle and held her tightly around the waist so that she would not try to jump off. He gave the horse a sharp kick, and they took off galloping into the forest.

Jillian's body had tensed as she felt his arm tightly encircle around her, using his free hand to control the horse's reigns. Her mind raced, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She watched as the trees whizzed by them, making her feel light-headed and dizzy; or perhaps that was not caused by the trees. Suddenly, she realized that her heart was racing, and she did not want to admit to herself the reason why.

Tristan felt Jillian's body tense as he held on to her waist. Her soft, brown hair blew in his face as they rode through the dense trees. What was he doing? He had not looked far enough into the future to have planned anything out, and now here he was carrying Jillian off to confront Arthur. It was not like him to act so brashly or impulsively. He became increasingly aware of Jillian's back pressing up against his chest, and he suddenly realized that his heart was pounding.

They finally reached the lake where Arthur and the other knights had made camp. The knights watched curiously as Tristan and Jillian rode towards them on Tristan's horse. Tristan dismounted and offered his hand to help Jillian down. She ignored his hand, and dismounted the horse on her own.

Arthur approached them and looked directly at Jillian. "You deceived us," he said, not angrily, but sternly.

"I did what I thought was right…" Jillian answered, her voice trailing off. Her eyes stayed at the ground in front of her, and Arthur could tell that she was being sincere.

Arthur put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Do what's right now," he said, "Tell us where they have taken Lucia Gaius."

"Arthur, I'll die before I betray my people," Jillian replied softly, but firmly.

"Arthur, it's a lost cause," Gawain reasoned, "Why not just let it go?"

Arthur turned to Gawain. "We will do what we can to prevent any harm from coming to an innocent Roman woman," Arthur said severely. '_Hardly innocent_,' Tristan thought to himself.

"How do we know they haven't already killed her?" interjected Bors.

"If they wanted to kill her they would have done it then and there during their attack," I reasoned, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. It could not be denied that I had grown closer to Lucia than any of the others, even if it had only been in one night.

Arthur turned his attention back to Jillian. "You helped us once. Help us again," he said.

Jillian felt as though she was being backed into a corner, and she did not know what to do. She respected Arthur, but her loyalty lay with her people. Thinking of nothing else to say, she lied, "I helped you? How do you know I wasn't just trying to distract you to make their estate easier to ambush? It was a stroke of brilliance, really. I even rendered your trusted scout unconscious!"

"That's enough," Tristan spoke for the first time, his face cold and hard as stone.

"I knew it!" cried Gawain, "I knew she couldn't be trusted!"

"Stop it! All of you!" Arthur commanded, then turned back to Jillian, "At the Gaius estate, we freed those people because they were being held captive under the wrong circumstances. Now, I am asking for your help."

"Arthur, I'm sorry, but I cannot betray the tribe that took her to you," Jillian said sympathetically. Suddenly, she formulated a plan. "Look, let me go speak with them. Perhaps I can arrange some kind of bargain," she offered.

"Oh that's a great idea," Galahad retorted sarcastically, "Let her go off on her own and we'll never hear from her again."

"Tristan," Arthur addressed the scout, "You will go with her. Stay here tonight, but leave first thing in the morning." Tristan nodded, but Jillian still seemed unsure.

"Arthur," she said, "If I give you my word to bring back Lucia Gaius, do you promise not to retaliate against the tribe that took her?"

Arthur considered this for a moment, but realized Jillian could be his one chance to help Lucia. "You have my word," he answered solemnly, and Jillian nodded her thanks.

Jillian watched awkwardly as the knights resumed their seats around the fire now that everything had been settled. She saw Tristan approaching her, and she darted her eyes about her surroundings looking for a possible escape. He was the last person she wanted to speak to right now. Her eyes landed on Dagonet who sat on a log by the fire. She rushed over to him and sat next to him on the log, leaving Tristan to stand alone. "Hello," she greeted Dagonet.

"Hello," he said, returning the greeting with a smile.

"I don't believe I ever properly thanked you for tending to me in the wagon," she said, trying to make conversation.

"It was nothing," Dagonet replied.

"I'm a healer, too, you know," she said, fully aware of Tristan staring at them from across the fire.

"Is that so?" Dagonet asked.

"Yes, perhaps we could exchange tips and different methods of treatment," Jillian suggested.

"Yes, in fact, that would be a sure way to lose the scout's attention," Dagonet answered slyly. Jillian's face turned from joviality to seriousness. She had not fooled Dagonet for a second, and now she felt guilty.

"Please, Dagonet," she pleaded, "Do not think I only---I mean, that I---"

"Think no more of it," Dagonet interrupted with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry," Jillian said sincerely.

"Please, don't worry about it," Dagonet said as he stood, "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

"I would like that very much," Jillian responded with a smile.

Tristan watched them leave, but did not follow them. He knew when he was not welcome. He walked over to the fire and sat down with the other knights. "Dagonet steal your girl?" Gawain teased. Tristan glared back at him in reply.

Dagonet and Jillian strolled along the edge of the lake. Jillian enjoyed the peacefulness of Dagonet's presence. He was a kind man, and she respected him. "So what is there between you and Tristan?" he asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Nothing!" she replied, slightly taken aback. Dagonet looked at her skeptically. "I swear!" she assured him. Dagonet laughed. "Besides," she continued jokingly, "Lady Gaius already has her hooks in him, I believe."

"Bite your tongue," Dagonet responded with a laugh, "Anyways, I think Lancelot already took care of that."

"Oh really?" Jillian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Either way, it wouldn't have taken her long to discover that Tristan is immune to a woman's charms," Dagonet commented, "He sees through all the flattery."

"I see," Jillian responded, "He's not one for love, is he?"

"I suppose not," Dagonet said. Why did that answer disappoint her? "Although," Dagonet added, "Perhaps if it were honest and true…"

Tristan sat by the fire sharpening his dagger. "There's not going to be a blade left on that thing by the time you finish with it," Gawain commented. Tristan sighed, and returned the dagger to his belt. Why should he care if Jillian and Dagonet took a walk by the lake? He wondered if there was anything between them. Again, why should he care? He looked up and saw Dagonet and Jillian returning from their stroll. 'But I do care,' he thought. Tristan caught Jillian staring at him. Their eyes met, but she quickly averted her glance. Tristan shrugged. He was used to being alone. A bolt of lightning illuminated the night followed by the roar of thunder. Tristan wrapped his cloak around him as the rain fell from the sky.


	10. Forgery

Jillian awoke the next morning to a clear blue sky. She was glad that the storm had passed. Arthur and I were sitting by a tree eating breakfast when Jillian approached us. "Thank you, Jillian, for doing this," Arthur said sincerely. Jillian nodded and then reached into a bag she had been carrying with her. She pulled out a wooden box and handed it to Arthur. Arthur accepted the box and studied its lavish exterior. He immediately recognized the Gaius crest on the top, but also noticed the name "Lucia Gaius" written directly beneath it.

"They're just letters inside," Jillian said, seeming somewhat disappointed, "and I don't read Latin." Jillian then turned to see Tristan ready and waiting for her. She was to lead him to the tribe that held Lucia Gaius today. Jillian nodded to Arthur then walked over to join Tristan. Arthur and I watched as they headed into the forest.

Arthur opened the box and began perusing the letters. His face contorted into a look of concern as he flipped through the papers. "What do they say?" I asked curiously.

"They are property deeds with Senator Gaius's official seal. It looks like all that's needed would be for the property owners to sign the documents, and then they would have handed over their land to Marcellus Gaius and Marcus Octavius," Arthur said, his furrowed eyebrows reflecting his state of deep thought.

"Why wouldn't Senator Gaius send the deeds directly to the property owners?" I asked.

"He didn't send them at all," Arthur said, a revelation suddenly forming in his mind, "The seal is forged."

* * *

Tristan and Jillian kept their steps at a steady pace as they marched through the forest. Jillian had informed him that the tribe they were seeking had a village no more than a day's journey east. As they walked, Tristan was careful to leave a trail that the knights could follow in case something went wrong on this expedition. Once they reached the village, he knew he would be significantly outnumbered. If they had not returned by night fall the next day, Arthur and the rest of the knights were to come looking for them. He wanted to believe that Jillian would keep her word, but it was always best to be cautious.

They had been treading through the forest for nearly two hours now, and neither had said a word to the other. Jillian still seemed to be giving him the cold shoulder, and he could not say that he blamed her. Because of him, she was now forced to help save a woman who had enslaved her, beaten her, and would probably have her killed if given the chance. As loyal as Jillian was to her people, however, Tristan was equally loyal to Arthur and, therefore, did not regret the actions he had taken. Yet, he did sympathize with Jillian and the position he had put her in.

"Why were you crying?" he asked suddenly, hoping to make amends.

"What?" she responded, slightly stunned by his question.

"When I found you in the forest," he explained, "you were crying."

"Oh…" she said, "No reason."

Tristan did not believe that for a second, but he did not press the matter. "I cry sometimes too," he said, hoping to cheer her up.

"No you don't," she scoffed. The thought of Tristan crying almost made her laugh.

"You're right. I don't," he admitted with a slight smile. Then he added perceptively, "But perhaps if I had a brother I loved deeply who---"

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted, curtly. Tristan nodded in understanding, but mentally kicked himself. He had once again chosen the completely wrong topic of conversation. He wondered what she and Dagonet had talked about by the lake. Dagonet, like Tristan, was a quiet man, but he could relate to people much easier.

Tristan looked up into the sky and saw his hawk soaring down towards them. To his astonishment, the hawk flew right past him landing on Jillian's outstretched arm. She stroked the hawk under its beak as he had done a million times. Tristan had to mentally restrain his jaw from dropping.

"She likes me better, I think," Jillian said with a smirk.

"I can see that," Tristan replied with a touch of feigned bitterness. He walked over to the two of them and stroked the hawk's feathers. "Is this your way of rejecting me?" he teased the bird.

Jillian motioned the hawk back towards him. "Here," she said, offering to let him take the bird. It was his hawk, after all.

"No, no," he said jokingly, "I can tell when I'm not wanted." Jillian laughed, giving him a warm smile. Had he finally broken through her tough outer shell?

He decided to give conversation another try. "So tell me about this tribe," he said, "Is it yours?"

Jillian laughed, "No, definitely not. My tribe is much more conservative whereas this tribe, the Itis tribe, is a bit more---radical."

"I see," Tristan responded, "I didn't know there were such differences between the tribes."

"The tribes are all rather isolated and independent," she explained, "Merlin is a good leader, but he has yet to effectively unite all the separate sects. Have you heard of the Itis tribe before?"

"No," Tristan answered, shaking his head.

"You'd probably know them for their hallucinogens," Jillian said.

"They dip their arrows in them," Tristan recalled.

"It's good for causing mass hysteria on a battle field. Like I said, they're a bit radical. I personally think it's a bit cowardly, though---trying to incapacitate your enemies with drugs---sorcery. I mean, it's effective to be sure, but there are more honorable ways to face an opponent. Sometimes how you fight is more important than whether you win or lose," she said. Then, as though catching herself in a mistake she added, "I'm sorry. I'm talking too much."

"Don't apologize. What you said makes a lot of sense," Tristan assured her.

"So, tell me about your homeland---Sarmatia. Do you miss it?" Jillian asked, changing the subject.

"I don't really remember it," Tristan answered, "I left when I was very young."

"Do you think you will ever go back?" she asked.

"Maybe," he responded, averting his eyes from her. Jillian could tell that Sarmatia was not a subject Tristan wanted to discuss. She chastised herself mentally for bringing it up.

Once again there was silence between them as they journeyed through the forest. Jillian had never realized that silence could be loud, but she noted that the silence between them now was deafening. Yet, it was also a fragile silence that they both feared to shatter with the sound of their voice. Finally, Jillian spoke, "I'm sorry that I hit you over the head---and that I lied about Lady Gaius."

"Your intentions were good," Tristan replied simply, "Maybe we should be thanking you."

"Do you love her?" Jillian asked suddenly. She could not believe she had worked up the nerve to ask that question.

"What?" Tristan responded, stupefied, "Lucia Gaius?"

"Yes, I mean, you're going through great pains to rescue her, and she obviously feels something for you, what, with all the care she provided for you at the estate when you were injured," Jillian reasoned.

"Yeah, and then she tried to have me killed," Tristan recollected.

"She did?" asked Jillian, "Why?"

"It's not important," Tristan replied, shrugging off her question, "Regardless, I could never care for someone like Lucia Gaius."

"Why not?" Jillian questioned.

"Her lies, deceit, manipulation," Tristan listed. He wondered why Jillian was so interested.

"I deceived and manipulated you," Jillian pointed out. Realizing what she had just said, she quickly corrected herself, "I mean, I'm not saying that you care about me. I just mean that everyone lies and manipulates sometimes." Her face was now flushed red with embarrassment.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "You were in an impossible situation, torn between loyalties," Tristan reasoned, "People like Lucia Gaius manipulate to serve themselves alone."

Jillian nodded. She was glad that she was not in the same category as Lucia Gaius in his eyes. She wanted him to respect her; and, though she would not admit it to herself, she did want him to care for her.

"So what of you and Dagonet?" Tristan asked suddenly.

His voice and question startled her. "What about me and Dagonet?" she responded.

Tristan shrugged. "You seemed close last night," he said.

'Was he jealous?' she thought to herself, 'No, that's impossible.' She answered, "Well, we are just friends. He knows a lot about healing." Tristan nodded.

* * *

The sun was setting when they reached the Itis tribe's settlement. Two woads approached them and began speaking to Jillian in their native tongue. They gestured angrily in Tristan's direction, which concerned him. "What's going on?" he asked.

"They are angry that I brought you here," Jillian explained somewhat nervously, "Don't worry, though. I've arranged to talk to their leader. Wait here. I shouldn't be long."

Tristan watched as Jillian followed the two woads into one of the larger huts. He scanned his perimeter, staying alert to his surroundings. To his left, he noticed a group of woads congregating. They kept looking over at him as they spoke to one another. After a few moments, they marched over towards him. Tristan instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword. The woads formed a circle around him, significantly outnumbering him. He drew his sword, but they charged, overpowering him and relieving him of his weapons.

The woads held him by the arms and carried him into a smaller hut that was being guarded by two tall, bulky men. They shoved Tristan inside where he found Lucia Gaius herself sitting bound on the floor. Her hands were tied behind her to a stake that rose from the ground. The woads pushed Tristan to the floor and tied his hands behind him to the same stake. He and Lucia sat back to back. The woads brushed the dirt off from their hands and exited the hut.

Tristan sighed, wracking his brain for a means of escape. He should have seen this coming. How could he have been naïve enough not to assume the woads would show him hostility? Yet, he had trusted in Jillian's ability to negotiate with them. Perhaps she still could arrange some kind of bargain. 'What if she doesn't?' he asked himself, 'Had she known they would take him hostage? Had she turned against him? Gone back on her word?' If that was the case, then his only chance was for Arthur and the knights to follow the trail he had left to the tribe's village.

The sound of Lucia's voice from behind startled him. "I thought I had you killed," she said bitterly.

'Nice to see you too,' Tristan thought.


	11. Escape

The sun had set, leaving Tristan and Lucia only the light of a single lantern that sat lit in the corner of the hut. Tristan's wrists were raw now from trying to break loose from his bindings. He had not said a word to Lucia. She was the last person he wished to speak to. He wanted desperately to believe that Jillian would come to their aid, but that hope was starting to wear thin.

His relationship with Jillian had been rocky from the start. They seemed to waver back and forth from friends to adversaries to friends again without ever being able to reach a balance. Now, he suspected they had shifted back to being enemies. Yet, at the same time he realized that if she were truly his enemy, he would not be so hurt by her betrayal.

Tristan heard a woman's voice from outside and then the shuffling of feet. Jillian slipped into the hut carrying Tristan's sword and other weapons. His heart leapt when he saw her, though he did not let his face reflect it. Jillian rushed over to them and began untying their ropes.

"We must hurry. The guards will only be away for a few minutes," Jillian informed them, urgently, "It won't take them long to realize a cart wasn't really set on fire."

"I thought you were going to strike a bargain?" Tristan asked, picking up his weapons that Jillian had set beside him.

"I tried, but it turns out I'm a horrible negotiator. I'm sorry. I wanted to keep my word, but this is the best I can do. Come," she said, motioning to them to follow her out of the hut.

"You're crazy if you think I'll accept her help," Lucia announced obstinately.

"Feel free to stay," Tristan said dismissively, not in the mood for her antics. Lucia mumbled something under her breath in return, but Tristan ignored her.

Jillian peeked her head outside of the hut to make sure no one would spy their escape. The tribe members were gathered around a huge bonfire, distracted by the night's festivities. Jillian motioned her hand for Tristan and Lucia to quickly flee the hut.

"Hurry! Make for the woods!" Jillian whispered to them. Tristan and Lucia quickly stepped outside the hut with Jillian following close behind. To their misfortune, one of the woad guards returned from behind one of the huts and spotted them. Jillian felt her body freeze. The guard quickly pulled out his bow and dispatched an arrow that lodged itself directly between Jillian's shoulder and collar bone. Jillian gasped in pain. Tristan reacted immediately, flinging his dagger through the air into the guard's chest.

Tristan grabbed Jillian by the arm and pulled her behind him stumbling into the trees. Lucia ran frantically beside them, grasping at her only chance at freedom. A few feet into the woods, Jillian fell to the ground. Tristan grabbed her hand, trying to urge her on. Jillian's body shook violently, and Tristan remembered what she had told him about the tribe's hallucinogens.

"Go!" she whispered, urging them to keep running.

"Come on! Leave her!" Lucia cried frantically, "She'll just slow us down anyway! We have to hurry!"

Tristan ignored Lucia and gripped Jillian's shoulder. "I'm going to remove the arrow," Tristan told her. Jillian gave him a slight nod, her eyes darting on all directions. He gripped the arrow firmly and yanked it from her shoulder. She winced in pain, her eyes welling up with tears. Jillian could feel the drug streaming through her body and knew she had little time before it would take its full effect.

"In my bag---the blue bottle---" she whispered to Tristan. He hurriedly fumbled through her bag until he found a small blue bottle. He showed it to her, and she nodded. "Give it to me," she uttered, barely audible. Tristan removed the cap and put the bottle up to her lips, knowing there was no time for questions. Jillian drank its substance, and her body suddenly went limp. Tristan felt for her heart, which he found to be still beating faintly.

"Come _on!_" Lucia cried, impatiently. Tristan picked up Jillian's lifeless body in his arms and hastened into the forest, Lucia staying close by his side. They fled quickly through the trees hoping to distance themselves as far as possible from the tribe's settlement. Tristan noted that they were not being followed as of yet, but he suspected it would not take the tribe long to discover their absence.

Tristan and Lucia stopped when they heard horses' hooves riding towards them. They ducked behind a tree and waited. Tristan watched as six familiar figures rode past them on horseback. "Arthur!" Tristan called. Arthur pulled on his reigns and took a sharp turn back in Tristan's direction. We rode over to them and dismounted our horses. Lucia ran crying into my arms, "Lancelot!" I held her tightly and smirked at the rest of the knights who rolled their eyes at me.

"We thought it best not to wait till morning to come after you," Arthur explained to Tristan.

"I'm glad," Tristan responded. Arthur looked down worriedly at Jillian who lay still in Tristan's arms.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, concerned.

"Poisoned arrow," Tristan responded severely.

"Poisoned?" asked Dagonet, suddenly alert and ready to spring into action to help in any way possible.

"With a hallucinogen," Tristan explained. He carried Jillian over to his horse, which he was grateful Arthur had brought along for him. Tristan laid her in the saddle, then turned back to Dagonet.

"Where was she hit?" Dagonet asked.

"In the shoulder. She told me to give her this," Tristan said, handing Dagonet the blue medicine bottle.

Dagonet studied its contents. "It induces sleep," he said, "Smart girl. She should be fine as long as her body can withstand the drug. With any luck, its effects will wear off in a day or two, and she will have slept through it."

"How will we know if she can withstand the drug?" Tristan asked.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Dagonet responded solemnly.

"We'll return to the wall immediately," Arthur interjected. He then turned to Lucia. "Lady Gaius, I am glad to see you alive," he said.

"Took you damn long enough," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Tristan sat in his saddle with Jillian cradled in his arms as they raced to Hadrian's Wall. Though unconscious, Jillian had been shivering violently, so Tristan had wrapped his cloak tightly around her. He held her tightly as they rode, hoping his body would provide warmth to hers. It was then that he realized how much he cared for her. Tristan never imagined that he would ever truly care about anyone. He had always been alone, and it had suited him. Now, though, he could not imagine his life if Jillian died. She had to make it. She had to survive.

Dawn's light seeped into the night's pool of darkness, announcing morning's arrival, and Hadrian's Wall appeared on the horizon. Tristan urged his horse forward, riding ahead of the rest of us. Jillian's body had grown cold against his through the night, and he could only think of reaching the wall. Tristan rode hastily through the gates, dismounted his horse, and rushed Jillian to his quarters. Jols had tried to greet him at his arrival, but Tristan had flown past him without a word. Jols shrugged and simply led Tristan's horse to the stables.

Tristan set Jillian down in his bed and covered her with blankets. He stood over her for a moment and then touched his hand to her forehead, brushing away a few stray strands of hair. Her breathing was faint, and her body still trembled. Tristan felt helpless. Taking lives was so effortless for him. He only wished he could keep her alive with the same ease.

Tristan heard a knock at the door and turned to see Dagonet enter. "How is she?" Dagonet asked.

"Cold," Tristan answered, not knowing what else to say. Dagonet walked over to the side of the bed and inspected Jillian, putting his hand to her forehead and listening to her heartbeat. The concerned look on Dagonet's face did not abate Tristan's worry.

"Well, she doesn't have a fever. That's a good sign," Dagonet said, trying to be optimistic, "The important thing is to try to keep her warm." Tristan nodded. Dagonet put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said, "I'll come back to check on her later."

Tristan pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and stayed at Jillian's side all day. He could not help but blame himself for what had happened. If he had not gone after her and forced her to help them, she would never have gotten hurt. How could he have been so careless with her life when she had gone through such pains to try to save his?

It was mid-afternoon when Arthur entered Tristan's room. "Is she alright?" Arthur asked. Tristan shrugged, not turning to look at Arthur. He kept his eyes focused on Jillian's sleeping face. "Tristan, I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"How is Lady Gaius?" Tristan asked somewhat bitterly, still not taking his eyes off of Jillian.

"Physically, she's fine. Although, she was shaken by the news of her brother and the Octavius estate," Arthur answered. Tristan nodded indifferently. He felt no sympathy for Lucia Gaius. In fact, he could not help but wish that she were the one lying unconscious fighting for her life instead of Jillian. Sensing that there was nothing left to say, Arthur exited the room, giving Tristan his privacy.

Jillian's body grew colder and colder throughout the day. Dagonet returned to check on her that night, and the look of concern on his face only intensified. After he left, Tristan took Jillian's trembling hand in his own and noticed that it felt ice cold. Thinking of nothing else that he could do to help, Tristan climbed into the bed next to her. He leaned his back against the headboard of the bed and pulled Jillian up against him. Her head rested against his chest, and he wrapped his arms securely around her shivering body. Tristan felt his eyes grow heavy, and within a few minutes he had fallen asleep.


	12. A Promise

Tristan awoke the next morning relieved to find that Jillian's body felt warmer against his own and that she was no longer shivering as violently. Tristan looked down at her sleeping peacefully against his chest. He had not even remembered falling asleep; yet it had been one of the most undisturbed sleeps he had had in a long time. Tristan ran his fingers through Jillian's soft, brown hair and kissed her gently on her forehead. He then rose from the bed and returned to his seat by her side. He prepared to spend the day as he had the one before, watching over her. If he were a Christian, he thought, this would be a moment when prayer was appropriate. He realized, however, that he did not know how to pray.

To his utmost relief, Jillian had started to regain consciousness by midmorning. Her head tossed from side to side as she mumbled incoherent strings of words. Tristan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and she leant into his touch. Her eyelids parted, and she looked up at him.

"Tristan?" she whispered in a raspy voice.

"Jillian!" Tristan answered leaning over to her, "Jillian, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she asked in the same breathy voice.

"For forcing you to go on the mission---for making you risk your life for something you didn't even believe in," he replied with sincere regret in his voice. His words were rushed, but he had wanted to say that to her since the moment the arrow struck her.

"Why?" she asked, closing her eyes and drifting back into sleep, "You do it all the time."

The truth of her words hit him like a punch to his gut. She was right. Even in her incapacitated state, she was as perceptive as ever. He had spent the last fourteen years of his life fighting for a country not his own for a cause he did not believe in. Here lay a girl who had dedicated her life to fighting for the freedom of her people. Who was the greater warrior?

* * *

Jillian had fully regained consciousness by dusk when Dagonet came to check on her. Dagonet expressed his great relief, but Jillian simply dismissed him as worrying too much. She insisted on getting out of bed and walking around, despite Dagonet's objections that she still looked very pale. A few minutes later, one of the maids entered, offering to draw a hot bath for Jillian. Jillian accepted the offer eagerly. Meanwhile, Dagonet and Tristan decided retire to the tavern to give Jillian her privacy. It was the first time since their return to the wall that Tristan had even considered leaving Jillian's side.

Jillian sat soaking in her hot bath, trying to wrap her mind around where she was and what had happened. She had never dreamed that she would ever find herself at Hadrian's Wall with Arthur and the great Sarmatian knights, much less that she would ever find herself waking up in one of the knight's quarters. She had never felt so awkward in her entire life as when she woke to discover she had been sleeping in Tristan's bed. She would have laughed at her situation if she had not been so ill. He had immediately explained to her, of course, the events leading up to her current location. He had sensed her nervousness and seemed a little nervous himself.

As she sat pondering in her warm bath, she still could not account for Tristan's tenderness towards her. When she asked, he had confessed that he had stayed by her side throughout her entire state of unconsciousness. His confession touched her to her very core. Could he really care that much for her? Suddenly the realization struck her that she wanted nothing more in the world than for Tristan to feel the way about her that she felt about him. She truly, deeply loved him. She had loved him all along, though she had tried to convince herself time and time again that he was as much her enemy as any of the Romans. Upon this realization, however, Jillian's heart broke. They could never be together.

Tristan sat leaning back in the corner of the tavern with his feet resting on top of a table. He was in his own world, immersed in thought as he used his spare dagger to slice through an apple. His thoughts drifted to Jillian. He could not help but feel overjoyed. She was alive. He had never felt about anyone the way he felt about her. He respected her; he admired her; and against all the odds, he loved her. More importantly, he wanted her to know that he loved her. It did not matter to him that she was a woad, while he fought for Rome. He _loved _her, and he wanted nothing more than to be with her.

Refreshed from her bath, Jillian headed down the corridor and saw Dagonet walking towards her. Dagonet immediately noticed her sullen face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm leaving," she announced.

"What? Why?" Dagonet asked, befuddled.

"I-I can't stay. I have to return to my people," she explained.

Dagonet was about to object, but decided that she perhaps knew what was best for her. Dagonet slid a silver band from his finger. "Here," he said, offering her the ring, "to remember our friendship."

"I couldn't possibly take that," Jillian objected.

"Return it to me when we meet again," Dagonet said, "This can't be goodbye forever."

Jillian nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, "Please, give Tristan my thanks as well. Tell him I will never forget him."

"Why don't you tell him in person?" Dagonet asked, "He's down at the tavern right now."

"I-I can't," Jillian replied.

"Please, for his sake---don't just leave," Dagonet pleaded.

"It's better this way," Jillian responded meekly, "Please, please give him my message."

"I will," Dagonet replied. Jillian patted him on the shoulder gratefully and retreated.

* * *

Jillian walked briskly through an alleyway, hoping not to be seen, especially by Tristan who always seemed to have eyes everywhere. She headed purposefully towards the outer wall. Once she reached the other side, she would be free to put everything behind her. She would return to her people, and perhaps her life would begin to resemble what it was before Tristan, before the Gaius estate, before Einar's death. Suddenly, she felt a hand encircle her wrist and spin her around. She looked up and saw Tristan's dark brown eyes staring deeply into her own.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"I-I'm leaving," Jillian responded, "Please, let go."

"No," Tristan answered, still holding onto her wrist.

"Tristan---please," she said, pulling away from him.

"Why do you always run?" he asked.

"What? I do _not_ always run!" she objected.

"From me, you do," he replied.

"I have my reasons," she said firmly, trying to prevent herself from breaking into tears.

"Stay," he said simply, "Stay here with me."

"You know I can't," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

"I-I don't belong here. My place is with my people," she answered. The words sounded lame, but she meant them. Jillian took another step back, but Tristan suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. He cupped the side of her face with one hand and moved the other slowly up her back. She felt her arms wrap around his neck. It was a perfect moment, like out of a painting or a poem. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality and pulled away from him, tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I can't do this," she cried, "Ever since Einar died, all I've had left in this world is my people—fighting with them, fighting for them, for freedom---but you---you confuse everything!" Tristan moved towards her, but she recoiled from his advance.

"Come here," he said, grabbing her by the waist and pushing her back against the outer wall of a building. Their lips once again met, and their fingers interlocked. Their kiss lasted for what seemed like several minutes until they finally parted and gazed into each other's eyes.

"Stay," Tristan whispered.

"You still fight for Rome," she answered, "I'm sorry."

"One year," he said, as though suddenly remembering.

"What?" she asked.

"I receive my discharge papers in one year," he replied. He watched as hope flickered in her eyes.

"In one year," she said firmly, "If you still feel the same in one year---"

"I will," he interrupted.

"Promise you will come and find me," she said.

"I will," he responded.

"Promise me," she whispered.

"I promise," he said. With that, she reached up and gave him a gentle kiss. She pulled her hands from his, and walked away unable to look back for fear she would change her mind. For the third time since they had first met at the attack on the caravan, Tristan watched Jillian disappear into the darkness. He promised himself it would be the last time.

* * *

"That was over four months ago," Lancelot said, "He hasn't seen her since."

"You still battle with the locals often, do you not?" Cassia inquired.

"Yes, quite frequently," Lancelot responded.

"Yet he has never once come across her since then? Not even by coincidence?" Cassia argued.

Lancelot shrugged. "I suppose she has perhaps been avoiding that kind of confrontation and those kinds of coincidences," Lancelot speculated.

"Lancelot, I must say, I am not quite satisfied with your story," Cassia scolded.

Lancelot seemed taken aback by her words. "Why is that?" he asked.

"There wasn't a happy ending," answered Cassia, teasingly.

Lancelot laughed. "Maybe there will be---someday," he said.

Cassia turned to see Tristan riding back towards the caravan, finally returning from his scouting. He rode over to Arthur, and they exchanged words briefly. Arthur then pulled on his reigns and turned his horse to wait for Cassia's carriage to catch up to him.

"Your ladyship," Arthur addressed her with a ceremonious bow, "We are only a few miles from the wall, now. I hope the journey has not proved itself too uncomfortable for you."

"Not at all," Cassia answered cordially, "Your knight has been entertaining me with stories. He's quite the storyteller."

Arthur raised an amused eyebrow. "Is that so?" he asked.

"It was nothing," Lancelot replied, slightly embarrassed by Cassia's flattery.

"Don't be so modest, Lancelot," Cassia teased. She then turned to Arthur, "Your knight is quite the expert in the areas of love and romance."

Arthur laughed, "Oh, I already knew that."

Lancelot cleared his throat. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. "If you'll excuse me," he said, and cantered his horse away from Arthur and Cassia who let out hearty laughs at his expense.

Cassia rested her head on her hand and gazed out her carriage window at the silent scout with the braided hair. He seemed so stolid and unaffected. Jillian must have been an extraordinary woman to kindle passion in such an unlikely hearth. Cassia thought that she would like to meet this Jillian one day. She had always admired the strength of a woman in such a male-driven world. Tristan felt the heat of Cassia's stare on his face and turned to look at her. Cassia gave him a slight nod, and then averted her glance. She let an amused smile cross her face. Despite her words to the contrary, she _had _enjoyed Lancelot's story.

* * *

I hope this chapterwas ok. I'm not very good at writing the romantic/intimate stuff. Many thanks to all who havereviewed thus far! 


	13. Unyielding World

Jillian returned to her tribe, which had settled just northeast of the wall. As time had passed, the woads had begun venturing further south more often. She discovered that her tribe had moved to a location ideal for slipping over the wall to the southern, Roman-occupied half of the land. Her old friend Revelin looked up at her approach with wide eyes as if he had seen a ghost. He rushed over to her and gasped, "Jillian! It _is _you! We thought you were dead!"

Jillian laughed, "Who? Me? Never!"

Revelin gave her a warm smile. "Welcome home, child," he said.

For Jillian, it felt right to be back with her people whom she loved dearly. Her thoughts, however, often drifted back to Hadrian's Wall. She wondered what life would have been like had she stayed. She assured herself that she had made the right decision. Hadrian's Wall was filled with Roman soldiers. She could never justify living peacefully alongside the same Romans who were denying her people their freedom. She anxiously counted the days, however, until the year's end when she could finally be loyal both to her country and to her heart.

* * *

Tristan's eyes met Cassia Gaius's, and she looked him straight in the eyes, not caring that he had caught her scrutinizing stare. She turned away after giving him a slight nod. Tristan now knew where Lucia had gotten her air of aloofness; although, Cassia Gaius seemed to have a certain wisdom and class that her daughter lacked. To Tristan, however, she was just another Roman. 

Tristan had noticed Cassia and Lancelot conversing nearly the entire journey. When he left to scout they had engaged in conversation; and when he returned, they were still deep in discussion. The ease with which they talked to each other amused Tristan, given Lancelot's relationship with Cassia's daughter. For once, Tristan was grateful for Lancelot's womanizing nature, as it distracted Lucia and relieved him of the inevitable headache she caused him.

Tristan had hoped Lucia would return to her estate, but for the past four months she had stayed at Hadrian's Wall. Now that her brother was dead, she had no reason to return to the estate, and Lancelot had given her a reason to stay at the wall as well. Tristan shook the thoughts from his mind. He had no desire to waste his time thinking about such people as Lucia Gaius.

The caravan rode parallel to the edge of the forest, and Tristan noticed smoke rising from above the trees. A group of Roman soldiers emerged from the woods riding in the direction of the caravan. The leader cantered his horse over to Arthur.

"Arthur Castus," he greeted with a slight nod, "We received word of Lady Cassia Gaius's arrival and have come to aid in the escort of her caravan the rest of the way to Hadrian's Wall."

The arrival of the extra unit of Roman soldiers did not surprise Arthur. Important citizens such as Cassia Gaius often required superfluous numbers of guards when they traveled. Arthur motioned towards the trees. "What happened there?" he asked.

"On our way, we encountered a gang of woad rebels. They were evidently planning an attack on this caravan, but we have taken care of the situation. We left not a single one of those bastards alive," he stated proudly.

"I see," Arthur responded not at all impressed by the officer's report, "Her Ladyship appreciates your efforts, I'm sure." The Roman officer nodded and motioned for his men to take their places along side the caravan.

The knights looked up at the sky to the screeching sound of Tristan's hawk soaring down and taking its place on his outstretched arm. The hawk had something grasped in its claws which it deposited into Tristan's hand. Tristan's face went pale as he stared at Dagonet's ring lying in his palm. "What is it?" Gawain asked, concerned. All the knights turned in Tristan's direction, curious as to what was going on. He had even caught Cassia's attention who once again sat peering out of her carriage window at him. Tristan seemed not to notice any of them. He released his hawk which flapped its wings, soaring towards the source of the smoke. Tristan rode off hastily as if in a state of panic, following his hawk into the trees.

Before long, Tristan came across the site of the skirmish where several trees still blazed with fire. He dismounted his horse, as his eyes frantically scanned the woad corpses that lay scattered across the ground. He noticed that many of them had been burned beyond recognition and were now barely more than ash. Tristan's heart stopped when he saw a familiar figure lying in the dirt before him. Revelin lied on his back with an arrow embedded in his chest. Tristan recognized him immediately from when he had come to the Octavius Estate with Jillian. Tristan's heart sank. This was Jillian's tribe.

Tristan wandered amidst the sea of bodies that carpeted the forest's floor. Tristan searched everywhere for Jillian's body, but could find it nowhere. He wanted to believe that this meant she could have survived, but the Roman soldier's words echoed in his mind. _"We left not a single one of those bastards alive." _So many of the bodies had been burned to the point that they could hardly be called bodies anymore that it was enough to make Tristan feel sick to his stomach. He fumbled Dagonet's ring in his fingers, and his heart lurched with pain.

He remembered when Dagonet had confided about his gift to Jillian. Tristan had, of course, felt jealousy, though he did not reveal it to Dagonet. Now, he wished more than ever that Dagonet had never given her the ring. No, Jillian could not be dead. She survived. She had to have survived.

"Jillian?" Tristan called. No answer.

"Jillian?" he called again, this time louder. No answer.

"_Jillian!_" he screamed. No answer.

He knelt down on the ground, cradling the ring in his fingers. "Jillian…" he whispered. Still, there was no answer.

The knights were just outside the Wall when Tristan rejoined them. His jaw was clenched, his face hard as stone. He rode over to Dagonet and placed the ring in his hand. Dagonet gasped at the sight of it. "In the forest? With the smoke? She was there?" Dagonet asked, still in shock. Tristan nodded.

Dagonet swallowed hard. "Tristan, I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, "I know how much Jillian meant to you."

"What's going on? What about Jillian?" asked Galahad, completely oblivious to the sensitivity the situation demanded.

"Galahad, shush," warned Gawain.

"I'm just asking a question! What happened?" Galahad asked, still not catching on to the severity of the matter.

"She's dead!" Tristan spoke suddenly and harshly, giving Galahad the harshest glare he could muster. Galahad was quickly silenced and fidgeted awkwardly in his saddle. Tristan rode away from the others towards the main entrance of the Wall. He needed to be alone right now.

"Lancelot!" called Cassia from her carriage. Lancelot rode over to her side. "What happened?" she asked.

"She's gone---Jillian. She was in the woods. She's gone," Lancelot answered, still unable to believe his own words.

Cassia's jaw dropped and she held her hand up to her mouth. "No, that cannot be," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Lancelot was shocked at how the news affected her. She certainly was nothing like her daughter.

"They found Dagonet's ring," Lancelot explained.

Cassia took in Lancelot's words, as a look of understanding crossed her face. "I am sorry to hear that," she said sincerely.

"You really are, aren't you?" Lancelot responded sounding somewhat surprised.

"Not all Romans are heartless, Lancelot," she answered.

"Well spoke, Madame," Lancelot said, taking Cassia's hand in his and kissing her knuckles ceremoniously, "A point well taken."

The caravan entered the main gate of Hadrian's Wall and made its way to the courtyard to unload. Lucia came racing towards the caravan at its arrival. She had a bright smile on her face and shouted excitedly, "Mother! Mother!" Cassia Gaius stepped out from her carriage and stood watching her daughter's approach. Her tall stature surprised Lancelot who had not been able to discern her height as she had sat in the carriage.

"Mother!" Lucia cried happily, "You're finally here!" Cassia did not share Lucia's enthusiasm. She stood staring at Lucia with a face cold as stone. She withdrew a stack of letters from within her cloak and held them in her hands for Lucia to see. Lucia's smile immediately dropped from her face and her eyes opened wide with dismay.

"Daughter," Cassia said severely, "We leave tomorrow at first light. You have much to explain to your father."

Arthur approached them with a slight smile. "Oh, Lucia," he said, "I found your box and sent the letters it contained back to Rome to Senator Gaius. It must have slipped my mind to tell you." Lucia glared at Arthur, but was soon distracted by Lancelot who grabbed her by the waist from behind.

"Don't fret, my darling, we still have tonight," he cooed in her ear. Lucia elbowed Lancelot in the gut and ran off in a fit of tears. Lancelot smirked at Cassia who was giving him a disapproving look.

Her frown soon faded into a wistful smile as she said, "Well Lancelot, I'm afraid it will be a short visit."

"Indeed it will," Lancelot responded. He gave her a formal bow and retired to the tavern with the rest of the knights.

* * *

Tristan sat atop of the wall at one of the currently unoccupied guard stations. He gazed out at the setting sun desperately searching for some kind of inner peace. He could hear laughter from the tavern below that stung against the complete numbness he felt inside. 'To feel numb,' he thought, 'Was that not a contradiction? How can one feel the absence of feeling?' He heard footsteps approaching, but he did not bother to look up. 

"You are not acquainted with me," Cassia Gaius spoke to him, "but I am acquainted with you. I am Cassia Gaius." Tristan turned to her, his face devoid of all life and emotion. "I once loved a man named Augustus Liberias," she continued, "I loved him very deeply, and he loved me in return. I, however, was to be married to my current husband Maximus Gaius, a man of significantly higher social status. Augustus and I planned to escape Rome and elope, spending the rest of our days together in love. When my father learnt of this, he had Augustus brutally murdered. We live in an unfair world, Tristan---a world that makes no exceptions for love, no matter how true it is. Yet, to find such love---no matter how briefly---well, I would not have traded that for anything else this unyielding world could have offered." Tristan listened intently to her words, but could think of no other response but to bow his head in respect to her. When he lifted his head, he found himself to be once again sitting alone at the top of the wall. 'Alone,' he thought. _Alone._


	14. Heaven

Well, this is the last chapter. I wish I could have spent more time on this story, but I will be gone the next month or so and thought it best to wrap it up before I left. Anyways, I hope you guys have enjoyed it. Thank you again so much to all those who reviewed! I have greatly appreciated your comments and encouragement. :)

* * *

Tristan sat on his horse along side the other knights as they began their journey away from Britain back to their home in Sarmatia, to freedom. They had finally received their discharge papers, though they had been delayed by a mission to save a Roman family from the invading Saxons. The other knights had been livid with Rome and with Bishop Germarnus for breaking the vow that they were to be discharged upon his arrival. The mission was one of the most dangerous they had undertaken; and when it was finally fulfilled, they had to mourn the loss their beloved fellow knight, Dagonet.

Tristan had been indifferent to the mission from the moment he'd learned of it. Now, more than ever, the prospect of death did not frighten him. In fact, he almost welcomed it. As he rode with the knights departing from Hadrian's Wall he realized that not only did he have nothing left in Britain, but neither did he have anything waiting for him in Sarmatia. His thoughts, as always, drifted to Jillian. 'May she rest in peace,' he thought, 'A peace I will never find on this earth.'

"_My father told me great tales of you. Fairy tales. The kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real. Arthur and his knights."_

Arthur and his knights' bravery and selflessness, however, were not a fairy tale. Their actions were real, and so were they. Their noble deeds transcended across the generations. Their honorability made even love possible between two people who should have been sworn enemies. Arthur and his knights fought for Rome, but they were not Rome. Jillian and Tristan loved each other from the start, but it was that distinction that made their love possible---that almost made their love possible. In the end, however, the noble deeds of a few men were perhaps simply not enough to redeem a world of wickedness.

Or were they? That the knights decided to stay and fight the Saxons did not surprise Tristan at all. In fact, he had almost wished for it. Britain after all was Jillian's country. She had died for it. Tristan knew that his staying and fighting along side Arthur and her people would have made Jillian proud. Tristan was therefore the first to dismount his horse and arm himself for battle. He grabbed a bow from the supply wagon and tested its string. In that moment he knew that his entire life had been leading up to this battle.

* * *

The battle was going well thanks to Arthur's gift for strategy. The woads were also a great help. Tristan remembered how Jillian had described the different tribes as isolated and in need of unification. Today they had been brought together in the common cause of their country's freedom. He supposed Arthur deserved credit for that. Arthur, who had for years fought the woads in the name of Rome, now led them in a war against the Saxons for the freedom of Briton.

Tristan dismounted his horse and glided across the field towards the Saxon leader, Cerdic. He would make a formidable opponent. If it was his fate to die on this battlefield, so be it, but he would die with honor. Cerdic acknowledged him, but sent one of his lieutenants to engage Tristan first. The lieutenant was a burly, bearded man, an insult to Tristan's skill. Their swords had barely met before Tristan had effortlessly slain the Saxon leader's pitiful lieutenant. He glared at Cerdic as the lieutenant's body fell lifeless to the ground. If the lieutenant was an insult to Tristan, the quickness with which Tristan took his life was an insult to Cerdic.

Cerdic drew his sword, and Tristan engaged him, pushing his helmet from his head with the back of his arm. They eyed each other with the kind of respect one adversary gives another of equal ability. Though Tristan fought only with his sword, Cerdic fought with both his sword and a dagger in his free hand, which he used to slash Tristan across the arm. Their swords clattered against one another. They parried momentarily, and Tristan swung his sword at the Saxon leader. In return, Cerdic struck him against the back of his head causing him to stumble to the ground.

Tristan remembered the first time he had seen Jillian on the battlefield. He had thrown her to the ground defeated, but she had stood to face him again never allowing herself to surrender. With this in mind, Tristan gripped the hilt of his sword and stood, his eyes once again meeting the Saxon's. They parried with their swords once again, but this time, Cerdic managed to fling Tristan's sword from his hands. Tristan stared at the ground where his sword lay and then turned his eyes back to Cerdic, readying the dagger that he kept inside the chest plate of his armor. To his surprise, however, Cerdic kicked the sword back to him.

Tristan knew that the Saxon was just toying with him, but he picked up his sword and swung at him once again anyway. Their swords met, and Cerdic quickly lunged his dagger into Tristan's arm. He then kicked Tristan back down to the ground. The game was over. Cerdic picked up Tristan's sword and eyed it curiously. He would kill the Sarmatian with his own sword. Tristan winced as Cerdic lifted him from the ground by his hair. Cerdic adjusted Tristan's sword in one hand and grabbed Tristan's arm with the other. Tristan seemed to levitate above the ground, being held by his outstretched arm.

Tristan dazedly looked up into the sky and saw his hawk circling above him. He felt death's breath on the back of his neck, making his hair stand up on end. He had always thought death would be a great darkness that would sweep over him, encompassing him in its coldness, but what he saw was a blinding beam of light that felt as if it were tugging at him from inside. '_Jillian…'_

Cerdic was about to thrust the curved sword into Tristan's side when an arrow flew out of nowhere and embedded itself in Cerdic's arm that held Tristan. Reflexively, he released Tristan from his grip, and Tristan's wounded body fell to the ground. Cerdic turned to the direction of the arrow and saw a girl with a bow aimed at him standing about twenty feet away. Her long brown hair swirled about her face in the breeze, and her glowing eyes narrowed as they met his. Cerdic grunted in pain, and pulled the arrow from his arm.

Perhaps the angels the Romans believed in did walk the earth, but Jillian was no angel. She was real, tangible, alive. Yet, to Tristan, she was like a guardian angel watching over him. She had seen the Saxon raise Tristan's sword for the fatal blow to his side and had instinctively dispatched an arrow directly into his arm.

Now the Saxon stood scowling at her. She knew she would have to fight him, and she had serious doubts about whether she could win. Fortunately, Arthur came bounding towards the Saxon, and Jillian sighed with relief. Arthur had spotted the Saxon from across the field. Apparently, they had some kind of score to settle. 'Let them settle it,' she thought. The battle was almost at its end, and Jillian's heart raced with exultation at the realization that the outcome would be in their favor.

Jillian turned her attention back to Tristan who still lay where the Saxon had dropped him. She raced over to his side and stood over him. "You're a good fighter, Sarmatian," she said looking down at him, "You just need to learn how to pick your fights."

Tristan opened his eyes and looked up at her, at first not believing what he saw. "Jillian?" he uttered, his voice raspy and weak.

Jillian knelt by his side. "You promised you'd come for me!" she said. Her eyes revealed traces of hurt and confusion. She had heard that the Sarmatian knights had received their discharge, and she had waited for Tristan to return to her as a free man no longer in service to Rome. When he had not come and she learned the knights were returning to Sarmatia, her heart had stung with rejection. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he did not love her. What was worse was the pain atthis rejectiononly served to show her how fully she had given her heart to him. Yet, here he lay on the battlefield, on the earth of Briton, and the joy that Jillian felt at finding him overcame her so that she could not help but smile down at him.

"You're alive," he responded in an elated state of shock. The pain from his injuries made his voice sound strained and forced, but his face held a smile. A smile from Tristan was a rare gift, but in that moment, he gave it to Jillian.

"Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?" Jillian asked, perplexed.

"Dagonet's ring---I found it---and your people---all dead in the forest," Tristan explained too confused by the events himself to speak his words with complete coherency. He could not believe she was alive. Jillian was alive!

Jillian furrowed her eyebrows at first, but then was struck with an epiphany. "I must have lost it in the struggle," she recalled, saddened by the memory. She remembered the day the Romans had come and annihilated her tribe, leaving nothing but ash. She could still hear the echo of their screams. The thought was too painful for her, so she shook it from her mind with the realization that perhaps Tristan had not broken his promise after all.

"You _were _there then? The Roman soldiers--they said they'd killed everyone…" he said. His voice wavered from the pain of his injuries, but his eyes stayed locked on Jillian, sparkling at the sight of her.

"Arrogant fools. You think I'd let myself get killed by a bunch of Roman dogs?" Jillian asked, somewhat offended, but also trying to lighten the mood.

"I forgot," he teased in return, "You're a _great _warrior."

"So are you," Jillian responded sincerely. She could never describe to Tristan how her heart had swelled with pride when she saw him from across the battlefield fighting side by side with her people. Yet, it was not just that he was fighting for her people and her country. It was that he had chosen to do so.

Tristan smiled at her words. He wanted her respect more than anyone's, and he finally felt as though he had earned it. Despite the pain from his injuries, Tristan forced himself to sit up so that he was eye level with her. He touched his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. To feel her tangibility, to feel that she was real---perhaps the world was not so unyielding after all. Tristan pulled her into an embrace and kissed her, never wanting to let go. As for Jillian, her heart felt as though it were soaring with Tristan's hawk in the sky.

Her heart. Remembering something suddenly,Jillian pulled away andsearched his eyes. "Tristan," she said, "Remember when you asked me to stay with you at the wall and I refused?"

"Yes," Tristan answered, trying to pull her back to him.

She restrained and continued her speech, "Well, you made me a promise---a promise I thought you had broken. I know now the reason, but, well, you see I was surprised by how much it hurt when you didn't come. I just---please, I just need to know that---"

"I love you," Tristan interrupted suddenly.

Jillian's shot open wide at his declaration and her face beamed with happiness. "And I, you," she responded. Jillian joyfully wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. They sat peacefully as such for several minutes, content simply to be together.

A soft breeze swept over them. They sat in the middle of the battlefield amidst the remains of hundreds who had lost their lives that day. Jillian and Tristan, however, had been given life that day---a second chance at the life they deserved to live together.

"Jillian?" he whispered softly in her ear.

"Yes?" she answered.

"I _do _believe in heaven."


	15. Music Video

I am perhaps crazy for doing this, but I made a music video that kind of goes along with the story. I had to use clips of Guinevere because, well, Jillian wasn't actually in the movie (obviously haha). Anyways, the video features the song "Jillian" by Within Temptation. When I was writing the fic, for the life of me I could not think of what to name the main character. I thought this song really fit the theme well, though, so that's how I got the name. 

I can't figure out how to post a link here, but if you go to my profile page at:

youtube. com/ profile? user "equal sign" Espy17

(I'm sorry if this is confusing, the link should work if you take out the spaces and put an equal sign in replacement of "equal sign".) It should be the first video on my profile page called "King Arthur -Jillian".

Here is a (kind of) direct link to the video:

youtube. com/ watch? v "equal sign" "underscore" rlI "underscore" tbLBLY

(Again, remove the spaces and replace the "equal sign"s and "underscore"s with equal signs and underscores.)

Here are the lyrics to the song:

_I've been dreaming for so long,  
To find a meaning To understand.  
The secret of life,  
Why am I here To try again?_

_Will I always,  
Will you always See the truth When it stares you in the face?  
Will I ever Will I never free myself By breaking these chains?_

_Chorus:  
I'd give my heart, I'd give my soul.  
I'd turn it back, it's my fault.  
Your destiny is forlorn,  
Have to live till it's undone.  
I'd give my heart, I'd give my soul.  
I'd turn it back And then at last I'll be on my way._

_I've been living for so long,  
Many seasons have passed me by.  
I've seen kingdoms through ages Rise and fall,  
I've seen it all._

_I've seen the horror,  
I've seen the wonders Happening just in front of my eyes.  
Will I ever Will I never free myself by making it right?_

_Chorus_

_Jillian Our dream ended long ago.  
All our stories And all our glory I held so dear.  
We won't be together for ever and ever,  
No more tears.  
I'll always be here Untill the end..._

_Voices (Jillian, no more tears.  
Jillian, no more tears...)_

_Chorus_


End file.
